Angry Ponytail
by KrasnyCassandra
Summary: Oliver's temper is legend, but Felicity is no shrinking violet. Watch the sparks, and the ponytail, fly as the vigilante meets his match. (Non-canon following Season 2 premiere.)
1. Chapter 1

I do not own the characters, dialogue, or story of Arrow. I'm taking them out for a spin and promise to return them (relatively) unharmed. No monetary gain is sought ( although you're certainly welcome to hire me as a screenwriter for Season 2).  
This story takes place 6 months after the Season 1 finale. **Spoilers for ALL of season 1**. Warnings for language and violence.

* * *

Diggle was surprised that it took so long for Felicity's notoriously run-away mouth to go right off the rails in front of Oliver. The blonde had never been known for holding her tongue, or for tact, so she must have bitten her tongue into a bloody stump to last a whole three weeks with Oliver's increasingly foul moods.

The three of them were in the lair, doing what Diggle called an "after-action review" and what Felicity called "getting our stories straight for the inevitable grand jury investigation". They had partially foiled Malcolm Merlin's "undertaking", but Oliver hadn't been able to hang up his hood. There was a city to rebuild and crime still ran rampant in the devastated Glades. Some days it seemed as if two new villains emerged for every one that the vigilante killed or turned over to the police.

His inability to retire from a life of crime fighting put enormous strain on Oliver's re-ignited relationship with Laurel Lance. She still mourned Tommy; she even felt responsible for his death. Struggling with her grief, and Oliver's obvious unwillingness to share every detail of his life with her, she had become increasingly unhappy. Five months after the catastrophe in the Glades, Laurel abruptly announced that she needed a change of pace—and scenery. She jumped at a job offer from UNICEF and promptly left the country.

Alone and miserable, for over three weeks, Oliver snapped at everyone around him and spent most of his time sequestered in the lair. When he wasn't exercising at a frenetic pace, he drove Diggle and Felicity mad with his increasingly authoritarian demands.

So, when Felicity finally snapped back, Diggle was only shocked by how long her patience had lasted.

"Excuse me?" Oliver's tone dripped with all of the arrogance that a lifetime of privilege could instill. His eyes turned flinty, a gift from his five years on the island.

"You heard me." Felicity's hair danced behind her head like the tail of an agitated cat. "I said: just because that bitch Laurel broke your heart doesn't mean you can treat us like dirt."

"You speak for Diggle now, too?" Oliver glanced at the older man.

"Hey man," Diggle said with a placating gesture, "people in glass houses. You aren't dishing out anything I haven't done myself in the past few years."

Oliver invaded Felicity's personal space, looming over her. She titled her head back, glared at him over her pert little nose and pushed on his chest with her hands. "Well _I_ haven't given you any reason to be such an asshole and I certainly haven't ever treated you this way. So knock it off."

"You called Laurel a bitch!"

"I call them like I see them! She broke your heart—again! I mean the first time, when you were back from the island, fine, because, you know you'd slept with her sister and all and that was a really asshole move by the way, I don't think I've ever told you that. But this time, you did everything you could to help her grieve and it's not like you don't have a lot going on, like all the time even, but she's too weak to deal with it all and it's all about Laurel without any thought about how Tommy was your friend too."

"I told you not to mention his nam**e**," roared Oliver. He was right in Felicity's face, now. Fury made the tendons in his neck and shoulders stand out in tense lines.

"Well I've never listened to you about what to say or when to say it before so why should I start now? I'm not your slave, _Mister_ Queen and I can leave here any time I damn well feel like it. In fact I think I've had about enough of being yelled at and bossed at and ignored and treated like a one-stop-shop for all your computer and wound patching and bomb diffusing and blueprint reading needs!"

Oliver's hand flashed out to grab her wrist as she tried to walk past him. Diggle, already moving to separate the two of them before Oliver's temper exploded even further, didn't get there fast enough. Felicity whipped around and punched Oliver as hard as she could.

"Ow!" She cried out and cradled her right hand while putting a table between her petite form and her very shocked boss.

"Felicity, let me see your hand." Diggle kept one eye on Oliver just in case, but he was more worried about the girl at this point.

"No." Tears welled in her eyes. She swallowed several times, grabbed her purse from the table and hurried to the door.

"Felicity, please let me—"

Diggle's plea was cut off by another sobbing "No". The door slammed closed behind her, leaving an eerie quiet. Diggle turned around, arms crossed over his chest. "For a guy who's supposedly such a playboy, you certainly have a knack for pissing off the ladies."

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**A/N: Writing Felicity's dialogue presents a challenge. She speaks in run-on sentences and tangents. While it pains the author in me, I've decide to use run-ons to best capture Felicity's cadence. This is only the beginning, stick around for one wild ride!**


	2. Chapter 2

"You're going to go apologize to her now, right?"

Oliver's shoulders bunched as he shrugged. He'd been alternately moping and beating the crap out of a punching bag for the past few hours. He knew he was wrong. He felt like the asshole Felicity accused him of being. The look of pain on her face after she'd punched him tore at something deep inside Oliver. Something he'd thought died on the island. How was it possible that a ponytail twitching in anger and soft blue eyes clouding with tears could hurt more than Tommy's death and Laurel's leaving?

"I thought I'd give her some time to cool off."

"Man, you know _nothing_ about women."

That comment made Oliver's eyebrows slant upward. "Glass houses, Digg?"

"Remember what I said when I signed on? That war chips away at your soul and someone has got to remind you how to stay human? I thought that someone would be me, but that girl has been a bright spot in both our lives. She's been fighting the city's villains and your demons and never asked for anything. So ask yourself, Oliver, would any of this be worth it without Felicity?" Diggle paused to grab his car keys. "Besides, your billion dollar face probably broke her hand. You at least owe her the cost of an ice pack and a few x-rays."

Oliver watched his friend walk away, knowing the older man was disappointed with him. "Join the club," he murmured. Realizing he was left to sulk all alone, Oliver made a decision. He left the basement of Verdant quickly, before he changed his mind.

* * *

Felicity sat on her couch, holding a bag of frozen pizza rolls on her throbbing hand. She'd cried until her eyes hurt and her nose ran. Now she was just miserable. Ok, miserable with a good dollop of still-angry.

"I can't even claim workman's comp! How awesome would that be: walking into the ER and saying "Yeah I broke my hand on my boss's pretty face."? What would he do? Probably yell at me some more, or treat me like his delinquent little sister. Come to think of it he yells at Thea a lot so both of those concurrently would be the best bet." She paused in her rant to hiccup. "What was I thinking getting involved with Oliver freaking Queen in the first place? Billionaires with hero complexes are the definition of bad news. Bad boys are bad enough but good guys pretending to be bad boys—except he hasn't been pretending, has he? I've just been fooling myself into believing he isn't damaged goods on a vengeance streak." Choking back a sob, she shook her head. "I am so, so, _so_ monumentally, incredibly, totally, stupid."

She hopped off the couch at the knock on her door. She kept talking, though, even before the door was fully open. "Oh yea, pizza. Pizza and red wine, just what the doctor ordered, or would have if I'd gone to the doctor which I can't because….Oliver?"

Oliver had to force his expression into a friendly smile. Felicity's babbling usually lightened his mood, but he was too distracted by her swollen eyes, disheveled appearance, and the bruised hand she held against her chest. _If anyone else had done this to her, made her feel this way, I'd beat him senseless. _"Hi."

"You are not the pizza guy."

He tilted his head. "No. Does the pizza guy also owe you an abject apology?"

"He might, if he doesn't get here soon and interrupt what promises to be a very awkward scene. You can't just show up here Oliver."

"I had to." He glanced to his right. "Do I have to do this in the hallway?"

"Do what?" She chewed on her lip.

"Apologize. Check on you. Apologize some more and at great length. Give you dinner. Take you to get that hand x-rayed." His lips quirked upward. "Did I mention apologizing?"

"You brought food?"

"And red wine."

She stepped aside, letting him in. "This doesn't mean I can be appeased with carry-out and alcohol, mister. I'm not a cheap date. Not that this is a date. Or that you'd… never mind."

"Who were you talking to?"

"Huh?"

"When I walked up, I could hear you talking."

"Oh. I was, um, having a debate. Out loud. Verbally. With myself."

"Who won?"

She looked up from the corner of the couch where she'd re-buried herself. "Stop being charming. I'm still really mad at you."

"I'm trying to _not_ be an asshole. Charming is all I have left in my repertoire."

Felicity shook her head and sighed sadly. "See, that's just it. You keep acting like all you can be is charming, vapid Oliver or deadly, moody, vigilante. That's not true and it's kind of insulting." She saw his questioning expression and explained. "John and I get to see the in-between you. The bits where you don't have to pretend. The times when you can relax and just be…you. The Oliver that laughs at John's sarcasm and pretends to find my babbling endearing."

"Hey now, I really do find it—" He stopped talking when Felicity waved her hand in a silencing gesture. She'd forgotten and used her bruised one. Oliver made a hissing sound and reached out to close his fingers, gently this time, around her wrist. "God, Felicity. I'm so sorry."

"I guess I should have paid better attention when Diggle was teaching me how to throw a punch. Also, I really hate your stupid, beautiful, square, hard, stupid jaw."

"It's doubly stupid?"

"Yes." She tried to pull her hand away, but couldn't.

"And beautiful? Really? Can't I get handsome instead? Or rugged?"

"No. Rugged would have the decency to have at least a teeny tiny mark."

"Would it help if I said it hurt?"

"No, because you'd be lying.

Oliver sat on the opposite end of the couch, his body turned toward her. "No, Felicity, I wouldn't be lying."

She blinked at him rather owlishly.

"It hurt to see you in pain, Felicity. It hurt to realize how badly I've treated you. I need to apologize for that. I also need to thank you." He waited for her to say something. "Are you ok? You're too quiet."

"I think I'm in shock."

"It's be a shocking day. I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."

She winced. "About that. I'm sorry. I should never have…you have to know that I'd never have said that…you've just been so angry all the time and I wanted my, I mean our, definitely our, Oliver back. I wanted you to roll your eyes at Diggle and smirk at me…" She looked away. "I've really got to install that brain to mouth filter."

He ruefully shook his head. "If you do that, who will keep me human?" Oliver stood and held out a hand to her. "Come on. Let's get that hand looked at."

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**A/N: Thanks for the wonderful feedback. Several of you mentioned that I didn't have Felicity quite right in the first chapter, or that she wouldn't have called Laurel a bitch. I hope I've done a better job with this chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Oliver, you can't go in there with me!" Felicity tried to step in front of him and stop his forward momentum before they reached the doors of the ER.

"Felicity, move." He placed his hands very gently on her shoulders and turned her around like she was a small child.

"Seriously, I cannot go into the emergency room with Oliver Queen! The paparazzi will be here within five minutes. How are you going to explain bringing one of your company employees to the hospital at… what time is it anyway? I forgot to put on my watch because you were distracting me by apologizing and I'm possibly suffering from low blood sugar. That food you brought smelled really good. Let's go eat it. I'm sure my hand's fine. What?" Felicity blinked at the intake nurse. "Oh, um, hi. Yes. I, um, punched—"

"A punching bag while I was showing her a few self-defense moves. She hits harder than you might expect." Oliver turned on the charm, with predictable effect. Two minutes later they were seated in the triage waiting area. He spent less than a minute watching the blonde beside him try to fill out the forms with her left hand before he gently slid the clipboard from her grasp. "You misspelled your own name, Felicity. Now, let's see. Social security number?"

"Like I'm giving you that information. Who knows what you would do with it. Not that you are a cybercriminal, or any kind of criminal…" She glanced around frantically before rattling off the numbers. "Really I can do this. I'm pretty ambidextrous. You'd be amazed what I can do with my left hand."

He looked up from the form and smiled softly.

"Unlike my mouth which is apparently just stuck on overdrive because I really hate hospitals. And you're making me nervous. And there's questions on there I am NOT answering in front of you and please please please just leave me here to die of shame all by my lonesome, ok?"

"Hush." He filled in most of the information about her address, phone number, employment and insurance status without needing her input. "Height: 5'4"

"Hey! I'm 5'5."

He turned his head and just stared at her.

She ducked her head and mumbled "Fine, five-four and three quarters."

"We'll round up, then. Next, weight: 121 lbs"

"How do you know that!?"

Oliver leaned over so he could whisper in her ear. "Because I swung you across an elevator shaft, remember?" He took a moment to savor her adorable blush before returning his attention to the form. "Last menstr-"

Felicity suddenly found the clipboard back in her lap. She stared in shock at her sometimes boss. "You're blushing."

"I do not blush."

"Yeah you do. It's an involuntary vascular response, it doesn't make you less of a man."

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

"I'm going to enjoy this right now. Mostly because the alternative involves sliding under the chair in embarrassment. I can't wait to tell Diggle about-"

He growled.

"Or not. I'll just keep this one all to myself. Store it away in my Oliver vault and only take it out when I'm alone. All for me and my personal enjoyment. Not that I have a mental Oliver stash, because that would be way too…they really need to just sew my mouth shut while we're here."

"Now who's blushing?"

She smiled at him and suddenly Oliver felt like he was standing in bright sunlight. His chest tightened, but not with the all-too-familiar sense of loneliness. He felt…happy. _Just because she smiled at me?_ He would think about that later.

He kept her chattering in nervous tangents while the triage nurse talked to her and then when the doctor finally came in to look at her hand. She must have really hated hospitals, the way she kept fidgeting. When the doctor started manipulating her fingers and pressing on the bruises of her right hand, Oliver stood beside her and folded her left hand into his.

"Felicity, look at me. Breathe." He stroked his thumb back and forth over hers. "No, do not make the hack face. That's right, no hacking."

When they took her back to the x-ray suite, Oliver pulled out his phone and typed out a quick message to Diggle and then another to Thea. Then he flipped through a year old copy of _People_. He was still miserably behind on popular culture—probably always would be. He was seconds away from storming to radiology to make sure Felicity hadn't been kidnapped by nefarious doctors when she walked back into the curtained cubicle.

"Hey."

"Sit, you look tired."

Her nose wrinkled. "What happened to "Charming Oliver"?

"You told me to stop it."

"Oh, sure, _now_ you listen to me."

"I always listen to you Felicity." He noticed how the stark truth made her uncomfortable and changed the subject. "What did the x-ray show?"

"Oh, you know, I have bones. They never tell you anything until the doctor gets a look at it anyway. You don't have to stay. I can get a cab home. No need for you to wait in ER-limbo for the rest of the night. Surely you have better things to do with your time. Important, hero-type things."

He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and said "This is where I need to be right now."

As a shocking admission of her exhaustion, Felicity lapsed into silence. Oliver was used to quiet contemplation, though he'd never managed it with the bouncy blonde nearby. They waited another twenty minutes before she suddenly turned her head toward him.

"When we were walking back there, the nurse asked me something. She asked if I felt safe at home—if I had a safe place to go back to." She noticed the way he clenched his jaw but didn't look away. "Of course I told her yes. I didn't even hesitate. I've got you and Diggle and even before I never even thought about being safe at home. It's just, it made me think, tonight. How horrible it must be to not even feel safe in your own home. To live in constant terror."

If Oliver's teeth clamped down any harder they would break off. Digg and Felicity were the two people in his life that knew anything about how hard the island had been for him. He'd never been able to tell Laurel about the nightly terrors, the multiple life-threatening situations, the friends he'd made and lost… He knew exactly what it was like to live in constant fear for his safety. That people, women in particular, in his city had to endure such misery made him furious.

Before Oliver could respond to Felicity's statement, the doctor walked in. "Ms. Smoak, you appear to have a transverse fracture of your fourth metacarpal. We call this a boxer's fracture. It usually occurs when a punch is improperly delivered. So next time your boyfriend decides to teach you self-defense—"

"Oh, he's not my boyfriend. He's kind of my boss. Not directly, just…he owns the company."

The doctor looked at Oliver. Oliver gave him the blandest smile he could muster.

"Well next time, have a trained martial artist show you self-defense moves. For now, I'm going to immobilize the injured hand in a splint. It's not as restrictive as a cast, but you will have to keep your finger immobilized for several weeks and return for follow-up x-rays to make sure the bone has fused properly."

Felicity nodded with due sincerity while trying not to laugh at the flicker of annoyance on Oliver's face at the "trained martial artist" comment.

Her good mood lasted until they were walking out of the hospital. Oliver leaned fractionally closer and muttered, "You'll train with me from now on. No more improper punches." When she squeaked in protest, he replied, "Or you learn to control your temper and not throw punches at people out of your weight class."

She murmured something about pots and kettles, but he closed her car door and walked around to the driver's side just so he didn't have to hear her. _Or think about why I suddenly want to spend more time with her._

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**A/N Y'all are voracious. I cannot write these fast enough. I had a lot of fun with this chapter. Hope you enjoy reading it!**


	4. Chapter 4

He couldn't let her see it, there'd be no living with her. He needed to find a way to confiscate every paper in the city and erase all on-line references as well. She could probably handle the latter task in her sleep _and _one handed, but that would require telling her in the first place. And, really, Felicity would not hesitate to pull out the "I told you so" face. It was not his favorite of her varied expressions.

Oliver looked up at Diggle with something akin to pleading. "Is there any chance this is an advance copy sent as a blackmail attempt? Because I will pay whatever they want as long as this doesn't get published."

The bodyguard/chauffeur/vigilante-body-double just snorted. "Carly saw it on-line this morning before the coffee was even made."

Oliver swore in Mandarin. He didn't even realize that he'd taken to using that language for his curses. Diggle knew that people, even long-time well-trained agents of intelligence services, usually swore in their mother tongue. He'd bring it up with Oliver, eventually. Right now, though, the boy was distracted. Diggle was simply amused.

The man most feared by the city's underworld turned in a panic toward the bank of computers. He took two steps in that direction, clearly intent on trying his own luck at digital skullduggery before his friend's voice pulled him up short.

"If you think you're in trouble now, it is nothing compared to what will happen if she finds you touching her system."

"It's my system," he said, petulantly.

"Sure it is. And she's one quarter of your size, injured, and your employee."

Oliver's eyebrow quirked.

"So why are you terrified, man?"

He picked up a stray tennis ball from the table and lobbed it at Diggle's head. "Like you aren't terrified of her."

John Diggle's face lost all traces of laughter. "She's part of the team. I'm terrified _for_ her and proud _of_ her. It's good that you're acting this way."

"Huh?" He was still thinking about trying his luck with hacking. Maybe he'd use Thea's computer.

"If you didn't care for her, you wouldn't be so worried about her reaction. It's just one photo and five sentences in a gossip column. She, and you, have weathered far worse. Relax."

Oliver took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and willed himself to be still. Dig was right. This was nothing, a trifle. He could smooth this over with a grin. At the worst it'd cost him another pricey bottle of red wine. As the sounds of the lair swirled around him and helped to center his focus, Oliver opened one eye.

"Dig?"

"Mm?"

"You were there _before_ the coffee was made this morning?"

There was a loud bang followed by a clattering on the metal steps. Before the on-coming storm blasted them both, Diggle turned, his mouth twitching. "Yes I was. And where did _you_ spend the night, Mr. Queen?"

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**A/N: I have the mother of all excuses for not posting, but a drill instructor once told me (shouted at me) that excuses only matter to the people who make them. So, apologies and I hope to have more chapters edited and up for you ASAP.**


	5. Chapter 5

Felicity stalked across the basement, her blue eyes fixed on her target. She had on white Capri pants, a pink button-down shirt, and pink ballet flats with white polka dots. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail which swayed with every step. She would've been adorable, if adorable could be combined with a quantifiable level of focused anger.

Because Oliver was still -despite hardship, loss, and enough family drama to fill a reality TV show—a guy, his first thought was not about self-preservation. All he could think for several seconds was _How did she button all of those tiny buttons with just one hand?_

Diggle glanced at Oliver, noted the slightly vacant expression, and decided to save the poor boy. Stepping forward, he said, "Hey, Felicity. How's the hand feeling this morning?"

"Good morning, Dig. You cannot save him by distracting me."

He shrugged and chuckled simultaneously. "Had to try. I'll go grab some coffee. Just leave the blood and mess; I don't want you to further hurt your hand trying to hide evidence of a murder." As he walked by the seething woman, Diggle tried one more time to diffuse her mood. "Go easy on him, he's genuinely sorry."

Felicity turned her head and blinked. She suddenly threw her arms around the taller man and pulled herself to the tips of her toes in order to kiss his cheek. "You're a good man, John Diggle." Smiling at his shocked expression, she pushed him toward the door. "Hazelnut soy latte for me, please?"

"Only for you." He winked as he left.

When Felicity turned around from watching Diggle leave, Oliver was standing right in front of her. "I'm a good guy."

She snorted—a noise as disconcerting as it was rude—and rolled her eyes. "Angling for a kiss too? I think the gossip columns have enough fodder."

He tried charm, his default setting for dealing with the women in his life. "There's no one down here to take a picture. They didn't get a picture of that kiss last night either."

Her pupils dilated. She poked him, hard, in the chest with an extended finger from her uninjured left hand. "I—Told—You—So." Each staccato word was punctuated with a prod from her finger.

"You don't babble when you're angry. _Really_ angry, that is."

"What?"

"You ramble-on when you're nervous, or excited, or happy, but when you're really mad at me, you sound like a drill instructor."

"How would you know what a drill instructor sounds like, Oliver Queen?"

He tilted his head. "TV." A new thought occurred to him. "Have you been rehearsing this tirade on the drive over here? Wait, you're not supposed to be driving while on those painkillers!"

"I might have gone over a few lines of attack while driving over here, it was a perfectly safe drive because I didn't take any painkillers since I woke up and also because no one is driving around the Glades at this hour of the morning. Why are you and Diggle here anyway and that did _not_ count as a _kiss_ last night!"

Nervous Felicity had made a roaring return. Oliver felt like he could handle her better when she was like this. The coldly rational Felicity snapping at him was far too... scary. But, then, he'd always associated her babbling with happiness and secret smiles and twinkling blue eyes and… _Snap out of it, dude. Now you're sounding like her in your own head!_ He focused on keeping the beautiful woman distracted. Leaning slightly forward he dropped his voice to a whisper. "Would you like to show me the difference between a real kiss and what happened last night?"

She backed up several steps. "Oh no, you're not going to distract me by being all sexy, Oliver Queen. Not that I find you sexy…"

A dark blonde brow shot upward.

"…any more than any other heterosexual woman, or homosexual man for that matter, does. You know you're hot and don't think I don't know that you know when I'm watching you parade around with your shirt off and Oh God you're doing it again."

"I haven't done anything, Felicity."

"Except not listen to me!" She saw him wince. "I told you that the paparazzi would find out about our trip to the ER. Didn't I? Didn't I tell you it was a bad idea and to leave me there alone?"

"It was two photos and five sentences, Felicity."

"In which we are both clearly visible leaving Starling General and climbing into your car! And don't get me started on the text you so blithely—"

"Good word. I think it was on the crossword I worked last week."

"Oliver!"

"Felicity, please—"

She rushed on, reciting: "Oliver Queen was seen leaving Starling General early this morning with an unknown woman. Hospital sources confide that there was a "sparring" accident that led to a broken hand. Mr. Queen managed to slip the woman in and out of the hospital in the middle of the night without answering any of our questions. The woman declined to file any charges related to the injury. She has not been previously seen with Mr. Queen but further inquiries are being made to establish the nature of their relationship." She sucked in a breath. "Oliver they all but accused you of domestic violence!"

He stared at her. "You're worried about _my_ reputation." The realization hit him like a physical blow. His incredulity was not helped by her expression.

"Of _course_ I'm worried about your reputation! You're the head of a multi-billion dollar corporation, a club owner, and a public figure. You can't afford to be branded as an abuser and it's just not fair. Never mind that it's stupidly not true and the exact _opposite_ of what happened! I hit _you_, remember?"

He rubbed his jaw as if the blow still pained him. "I seem to recall that, yes."

Felicity came forward until she was back to being toe-to-toe. Head tilted back, her voice quieter, she said, "And you really are a good person, Oliver. The best person I know—"

Unable to bear having her finish such a sentence (Because how could _he—_the guy who'd killed his best friend's father, killed dozens of other men, slept with his girlfriend's sister, and failed to save one quarter of his city from destruction—be the best person she knew?), Oliver placed the pad of his thumb over her lips. He moved his hand to the back of her head and used his other arm to hug her to his chest. "Hush, Felicity. I'll fix this. It will be ok, I promise." He kissed her forehead.

She made a choked giggling sound, which made him glance down in confusion. "Now what?"

"That's why it's not a real kiss. That's your "I'm going to fix it, and protect you, and everything's ok now go to sleep there are no monsters under the bed, kiss". I bet you do the same thing to Thea."

He couldn't help it: he laughed. "What did I do to deserve you, Felicity Smoak?"

She wriggled out of his grasp and moved toward her computers. "Ruined the upholstery in the backseat of my car."


	6. Chapter 6

(Several hours later)

"Oliver, we have a big problem. Detective Lance is—Oh!" Felicity found herself plucked off the floor, swung through the air, and plopped down on a table. She wriggled, trying to escape the large hands clamped around her waist and trying to move off of whatever instrument of war was between her butt and the tabletop.

"Stay," growled Oliver. He flexed his grip on her hips to emphasize his point.

At the same time, Diggle was ranting at her from across the room. "Felicity how many times have we told you not to just walk in that door? I nearly took your head off with that arrow!"

"Well why do you have to shoot toward the door, that's just silly, I mean you could impale anyone who happened to walk through! And I don't appreciate being ordered around like your prize spaniel, Oliver Queen. I'm most definitely not a spaniel, have you ever met one? They are gorgeous, sure, but as dumb as a box of rocks. I'm definitely more of a border collie, if I was a dog at all, which I'm not so stop telling me to _stay_. And stop swinging me through the air like a child. Tucking me into bed _one_ night does not make you my big brother. I bet Thea doesn't let you manhandle her—"

He leaned in closer. "Enough." It was his "Hood voice" and worked to shut her up long enough that they both heard Diggle's quiet chuckles. Oliver threw a glare over his shoulder at the other man, but it had no effect. He returned to staring down his blond IT whiz. "Apologize to Digg for scaring him."

Her mouth dropped open. "I will not! You can't order me around, Oliver. This is exactly what I was talking about! You act like you own the two of us and it's obnoxious and totally unfair—"

"You were wrong, and you know it. Apologize to Diggle"

Felicity glared at him, but she was increasingly aware of the large, rough, _hot_, hands holding her hips. He still hadn't let go of her. Her feet didn't quite touch the floor. She felt the toes of her flats brush against Oliver's shins. His bare chest and angry face filled her vision. She hesitated a second too long; the blonde man stepped closer. His muscular thighs pushed apart her knees so that he was between her legs and his breath teased across the bridge of her nose.

"Apologize."

She leaned back and shook her head. Her ponytail swung like an angry metronome. Later, she wouldn't be able to explain what made the words escape her mouth. Apparently Oliver brought out the petulant streak in her. "Say please."

The set of his jaw didn't change. His breathing remained slightly faster than normal. His pupils remained dilated. But his thumbs moved from pressing into her hipbones to smoothing across the sides of her waist. His fingers tugged her closer. Her lower body pressed against his upper thighs. His eyelids lowered a fraction. The tenor of his voice changed from an irritated snarl to a sensual growl. "You're going to make me beg?"

"Y…yes."

They stared at each other. She caught her lower lip between her teeth. His eyes flicked to her lips and he bent his head.

Felicity arched her back and turned her head. Panicked, she all but yelped "Sorry Digg! I'll knock before coming in when the door is closed, I promise." She pressed her palms, gently, against Oliver's chest. When he backed up enough for her to move, she jumped down. "I'm hungry. I'm thinking Chinese. That good for you two? Yeah I'll just order the usual. Apparently I am a good dog after all because I'll even fetch dinner and, yeah…later"

Oliver watch her scurry out of the room. When he turned and saw Diggle's expression, his frown returned. "What?"

"Nothing, man, didn't say a thing."

"I'm going to shower."

"Ok. She was talking about Detective Lance when she came in. I'll find out what that was about."

Oliver cursed under his breath. "She was, wasn't she? I should ask her about it before she bolts."

Diggle coughed. "Shower. I'll chat with Felicity."

"I'm not going to hurt her, Diggle."

"You sure? Look, take a break. Cool off and let me handle this. What's the use of having a sidekick if he can't tackle the pesky policeman and irritated employee situations?"

Oliver's eyes flicked uncertainly toward the door. "You're positive?"

"I got this. Oh, but Oliver? I don't do bedtime tuck-ins, so save your strength."

The look on the Hood's face would keep Diggle chuckling for several days.

* * *

**A/N I know this is short, but the scene kept playing out in my head and I just couldn't resist making a chapter out of it. Hope you enjoy.**


	7. Chapter 7

Felicity sat in her rolling chair, one leg curled underneath her, eating her Chinese with chopsticks. She answered all of Diggles questions but pointedly ignored Oliver. For his part, the playboy turned vigilante sat on the floor, his back against a table leg and tried to ignore how he felt every time the slim bamboo sticks touched those glossed pink lips. _Forget how she managed to button that shirt, how does she managed to use chopsticks with her hand in a splint? Is there anything she _can't_ do?_

"So," Diggle asked, "Detective Lance called you up and warned you that you were endangering Oliver's life?"

"For the tenth time, yes." She wrinkled her nose. "Oh, stop finding this so amusing."

"Come on, you have to find it a _little_ funny. Lance hates Oliver. His feelings about the Hood might be ambiguous ever since the quake, but he hasn't wavered in his anger at Oliver. You'd think he would be happy about Oliver getting an arrow in his chest."

Her blue eyes flicked, briefly, to the man in question. "I got the impression he was fishing for information, to see if the rumor in the press was true. He asked me if I wanted to press charges! The nerve really! Where does he get off believing that Oliver would be that kind of person and then to act like anything he read in the press is true when we all know that his family gets dragged through mud just as often between his work and Laurel, for him to call me is just outrageous and if I wasn't so mad about that stupid article I might have pressed charges—against him for police harassment. He can't just barge into our lives and try to pin anything he wants on the Hood, or Oliver for that matter! I mean _where_ does he get the right?"

"Felicity."

Oliver's quiet tone, laced with just the right amount of guilt, regret, and exasperation, silenced her rant.

Diggle waited a few minutes before asking, "What are you going to do?"

He'd meant the question for Oliver, but Felicity answered. "I have an idea, but I need to think it through some more before I implement it."

"No." Oliver stood up. "I'll take care of this. It's my mess, and I'll handle it." He gave the other man a soft smile. "Digg, can you take Felicity home, please? I don't think she should be driving. Goodnight you two." He walked out of the room.

Felicity clamped her teeth shut to avoid shouting at his retreating back. _There he goes, giving me orders and deciding what's best for me. I need to hit him with one of those stick things he's always working out with. I bet it would hurt him more than my hand did._ She looked up at Diggle, who was smiling as if he could hear her thoughts.

"Your carriage awaits, mi'lady."

"I can drive myself."

"Maybe, but please let me do this for you. Also, you've stressed him more than any man can be expected to take in one day." He held up a hand, eyes fairly twinkling with good humor. "Now before you take a swing at me, let me say that I know he's been a royal dick lately. He's deserved everything you've thrown at him. Just don't push him too hard or too fast, ok? He's still too close to the emotional edge and I'm not sure either of us could save him if he went over."

"Went over, _again_." She looked up at him. They had an understanding. They both cared for the moody, murderous, loyal, loving, scarred man in the other room.

Walking up the stairs to exit the lair, Felicity started giggling.

"What's so funny?"

"You called Oliver a dick. A _royal_ dick"

Diggle reached up to tug on her ponytail. "No tattle-telling, young lady."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, another short one. However, I should have the next chapter up by the end of the day! Also, please remember that I've chosen to capture Felicity's speech cadence through the use of run-on sentences.**


	8. Chapter 8

_He'd tucked her into bed._ Try as she might to concentrate on her work, Felicity's thoughts kept coming back to that detail of her Saturday night. _Well, it was actually Sunday morning. And why shouldn't I think about it? If I have to suffer the embarrassment of paparazzi speculation, I might as well savor what I can._

_He'd driven her, from the hospital to her apartment, in silence. She'd gratefully accepted it. By then, it was close to 3am and she was physically and emotionally exhausted. Leaning her head against the window, Felicity had dosed off before they reached her parking garage assigned space. Oliver had taken several minutes looking around the dark interior of the garage, his frown deepening._

"_I don't like your parking situation."_

_Felicity lifted her head from the window. "Really? You want to do this now?"_

_His frown hadn't disappeared, but he apparently decided to table the issue. Before she could get her suddenly heavy limbs to move in the correct fashion, Oliver was around the side of the car and opening her door. He led her to the elevator, and then her door, with a firm hand on the middle of her back._

_Once inside her apartment, he'd gently divested her of her purse and dropped it, with her keys, on the couch._

"_I usually leave it on the table by the door."_

"_Making you a tempting target for a robbery."_

_She sighed and leaned in enough to pat his bicep. "Stop worrying so much, Ollie."_

_His head had tilted when he heard his nickname trip from her lips. "I'll put these pain pills on the counter. Why don't you go get ready for bed?"_

"_K. G'night" She hadn't moved, though, because he was standing there with that bemused expression on his face—the one he so often wore in her presence. "This is the bit where you leave?"_

_He put his hands gently on her shoulders, turning her toward the back of the small apartment. Unlike earlier, at the hospital, this time he didn't let go but carefully guided her along the hallway._

"_Really, I'm cool. I can sleep in this."_

_He made a sound indicating agreement even as he nudged her to sit on the bed. "Arms up." Before she'd had time to think about it, Oliver had stripped off her shirt, leaving her in a tank-top type sports bra. Her drugged, sleep deprived, brain registered that she should be embarrassed but then decided that expressing that emotion would require too much effort. Oliver pulled her hair from its usual ponytail. He cupped the back of her neck while slipping an arm under her knees and moving her to a prone position._

_After pulling the covers over her shoulders, his rough-padded fingers slipped her glasses from her face._

"_I'm sorry I hit you," she whispered._

"_Shh get some sleep now. Tomorrow you'll remember why you aren't really sorry." He brushed a bit of hair from her cheek. Her eyes were already sliding shut when she felt his lips brush across her forehead._

"Remember indeed."

"Excuse me?"

Felicity jumped at the other voice suddenly intruding on her thoughts. _No, wait, I said that last bit out-loud. Stupid, stupid, tongue, always moving before the brain kicks in._ She looked up at the waifish brunette in her doorway. "Thea? Uh, I mean, Miss Queen?"

"My brother said you worked here. I remembered."

"Um, ok? I mean, how can I help you? Oliver, Mr. Queen that is, he comes to me for help with…computer…issues. Walter too." She winced at the pained look that flitted across Thea Queen's face. "I mean, he did. Not any more… obviously." Felicity sucked in a breath. "I'm sorry, can we start over?"

"That depends."

_Uh oh. I wonder if she realizes how very Hood-like she sounds when she uses that tone. Of course she doesn't, Thea Queen has never met the Hood. Has she? I don't think she has… I wonder if she's more observant than her mom. Well, moms are used to seeing their children one way. Brothers and sisters tend to be more objective—and critical._

"Are you going to stick with this story about my brother abusing you?"

Felicity shot out of her chair. "What?! No! That—how can you even think I would?! I get you don't know me, but you know your brother and this is just—no!"

Thea stared her down, expression blank for another minute before suddenly breaking into a wide grin. She dropped into the chair in front of Felicity's desk with languid grace. "Good. So, now that we've cleared that up, I'm here to help."

"Uh…what?" The blonde woman sat down feeling more confused than before.

Eerily mimicking her older brother's expression, Thea tilted her head to one side. "Ollie said you were the smartest person he knew." Her tone indicated she held that assessment in doubt.

"Well he _was_ alone on an island for five years."

Thea laughed. "You're perfect. Not the usual type, though maybe he doesn't have a type anymore."

"I'm not Oliver's type of what?"

"Girlfriend, of course."

"Uh, no. No, I'm not his type of a girlfriend and there's a good reason for that. I'm _not_ his girlfriend."

"You're sure?"

"I'd know, wouldn't I?"

A giggle escaped Thea. "Yeah I guess so. Well then why…?" She waved her hand around as if to indicate the cosmos in general.

_Think fast! You can't very well say "Oh Diggle's been teaching me self-defense moves that I stupidly tried to use on your brother because he was being a—royal—dick."_ "There's uh, this guy. He's been acting creepy. So I was doing a computer search for self-defense classes and Oliver found out about it."

"How?"

_She'd make a great detective. _"Uh, reading over my shoulder, as usual. You know how nosy he can be."

Thea's nose wrinkled. "Don't I ever. So he decided to show you some of his moves?"

Felicity coughed at the suddenly vivid image of a half-nude Oliver Queen _showing her some moves_. "Yeah. It didn't end well." She held up her splinted hand.

"Oh. Well, that's a bit trickier. Convincing the press that Ollie's madly devoted to you and wouldn't harm a fly—I'm sorry are you ok?"

Felicity was trying to control another choking fit. _Wouldn't hurt a fly—Ha! She obviously has no idea how he spends his nights._ "Yes, sorry. Dry air. Have to keep the computers cool and all."

The youngest Queen sibling was back to looking dubious. "Convincing them of that story is going to be very hard. Talk about the truth being stranger than fiction! You're sure you're ok, right? You're looking flushed."

"Fine, really. I have a plan, I think."

"Shoot."

"Well, the press won't think Oliver's an abusive boyfriend if they realize he has a girlfriend, right? Someone other than me, I mean. Someone more his type, someone no one would ever doubt he was dating."

Thea's whole face seemed to scrunch together as she concentrated. Finally, she smiled again. "Yeah, that might work. But you know he's not really been with anyone since the island. Not really. Except Laurel."

_And a murderous mob boss's daughter and Detective McKenna. And Laurel. Always Laurel…_

"That's why you can help. Surely between the two of us we can find someone to hang on Oliver's arm for a week or two until this story dies down."

A, frankly terrifying, gleam lit up Thea Queen's eyes. "Oh, this will be fun."

* * *

**A/N What do you think: Will Felicity's enlistment of Thea to the cause of "Find Oliver a girlfriend" result in disaster?**


	9. Chapter 9

"So do you have any?"

Despite being asked around a mouthful of Big Belly Burger fries, Thea's question was perfectly intelligible. Yet, Felicity had no idea what she meant. "Huh?"

"For Ollie's arm candy. Do you have any friends that would work?"

"Oh. No. I don't have any friends that really qualify as Oliver's type."

"So all of your friends are ugly and/or incredibly intelligent?"

Felicity giggled around the straw in her mouth.

"Thea?"

Both women looked up to see Oliver Queen and John Diggle looming over them. Oliver looked dumbfounded. Diggle appeared concerned.

"Hi Ollie!"

Felicity felt the tangible weight of Oliver's stare on her face. _ No, he's staring directly at my lips. That's weird. Why would he be staring at me while I'm sucking on a... crapsickles! I'm sucking on this damn straw like it's a…please, please, please let the world end right now. Stop sucking on the damn straw, Felicity!_ She forced herself to release her death grip on the cup and give the men an innocent smile. "Hi. We're having lunch."

The head tilted. The blue eyes focused on her, searching for signs of deception. His whole body seemed to still and fade into the background of the diner. Felicity realized she was holding her breath. Abruptly he turned on the mega-watt smile and nodded at his sister. "So I see. I wasn't aware you two were lunch buddies."

"Oh more than that! Clubbing buddies too!" Thea gleefully shared their evening plans with her brother and his bodyguard.

Felicity was frantically shaking her head and trying to signal Thea with her eyes, but either Oliver Queen's little sister was oblivious to the world around her, or she just didn't care.

"Oh?" The haughty stare was back.

"Yup! We're going shopping too. I need a new outfit and Felicity knows the coolest stores."

"I'm sure she does."

Felicity just wanted to die, slide under the table, and fade from history. Her feelings were exacerbated by the half-amused, half-pitying, look on Diggle's face.

"Mr. Queen, we really need to get our lunch and be going if you're going to make that meeting this afternoon."

_Thank you Diggle. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I will name my first son Jon Diggle. Ok maybe just John. Just get Oliver out of here before Thea tells him everything._

Oliver couldn't leave without a parting shot. "Have fun ladies. Thea, just because Roy is working tonight does not mean he can serve you alcohol. Leave him alone and let him do his job."

"Pft. Whatev's. We're not going to Verdant."

_Oh crap on a stick._

"What?" His eyebrows were arched, never a good sign. Even as Diggle took his arm and forcefully pulled him to the counter, Oliver was glaring at Thea and Felicity.

"Did you _have_ to tell him?" Felicity hissed.

Thea nodded emphatically. "Uh, huh. You done? We should head before he comes back and interrogates us. He's _so_ protective."

_You have no idea._

* * *

Oliver and Diggle ate in Oliver's office because the older man refused to let anyone eat in the company car. No matter how many times Oliver protested that they could have it cleaned, the rule remained in place. They ate like military men: quickly, chewing carefully and swallowing each bite, but doing it with an efficiency that suggested they had more important things to be doing.

"Did you know they were going out? Did you know they were even friends?"

"Man, I cannot keep track of your social calendar, much less Felicity's. And forget about Thea. That's why I keep telling you we need a separate detail for her."

"I don't have a social life. Neither does Felicity. At least… I didn't think she did."

"Girl's got a life besides hacking. Only nerd _boys_ hurt in the romance department, it seems."

"Has she mentioned someone to you? A boyfriend, I mean?"

Diggle wadded up the wrapper from his burger and tossed it into the waste-basket across the room. "What is this, high school? Why are you so worried over this? Do we have Hood work for Felicity tonight? Something I didn't hear about?"

"No," he admitted. "I just thought she'd tell me something like this."

Rolling his eyes, Diggle walked toward the door. "They're going to a club, not leaving town with the circus. Relax. You should be happy that Thea will have someone to keep her safe." He held open the door. "You're positive about no work tonight, right? Carly is making dinner for me."

Oliver checked his tie in the mirror. "I guess I'll have to find something to do tonight."

Diggle chuckled. "You own a nightclub. Go sit in the VIP section and look moody. It will drive the ladies wild."

"Just so long as it scares them away too."

Oliver was already out the door and, so, missed the puzzled look his friend gave him.


	10. Chapter 10

Oliver _did_ own a nightclub and he really did need to pay more attention to the enterprise. While he'd spent a great deal of money rebuilding the warehouse, the constraints place on his time by his other activities (covert and overt) left little time for management.

_I wish Tommy was here._

It was a constant refrain in his head. For the past six months, whenever a tricky situation rose up, he'd yearn for his former best friend. They'd not been on speaking terms before his death, but Tommy had been such an integral part of his life, for so long, that Oliver still wasn't used to the idea of him being gone. Tommy and Laurel both being gone from his life… Well, it was no wonder that Felicity found him so insufferable.

Roy working in the club was a blessing and a curse. He was naturally protective of the female clientele. Since the re-opening, Roy had personally stopped two date rapists attempting to spike drinks, and instituted a new policy requiring bouncers to intervene if a female guest was being pressured into leaving with a man. The lost and found bin behind the bar was still far too, disturbingly, filled with lingerie, but incidents requiring SPD visits were markedly lower. Unfortunately, Roy's long hours behind the bar meant that Thea was constantly hanging around. Slipping into the lair without Roy noticing was hard. Avoiding both of them was down-right tiring.

Thea was showing surprising business acumen. Although she wasn't legally old enough to be the official manager of the club, Oliver was slowly easing her into more and more of the day-to-day responsibilities. With every corporate shark from Metropolis to Gotham smelling blood in the water, Oliver had his hands full trying to save Queen Consolidated. Pushing some of his club work-load off on his little sister wasn't exactly honorable, but it was a choice born of necessity.

"She was hot."

Roy's voice jolted Oliver from his reflections. "Huh?"

Sneering slightly, Roy motioned with his chin. "The girl that just spent five minutes trying to flirt with you? She was hot. You were oblivious."

"Damn. I really have lost my touch."

"You had one?"

Oliver glared. "Back when you were still learning to ride a bike, I could get a date just by walking out the door. Wait-what are you doing judging the hotness of women at the bar?"

Roy held up his hands in mock surrender. "I said she was hot. I didn't say she was hotter than your sister." He immediately winced when his choice of words made Oliver's glare more intense. "You're uh, not helping her plan, you know."

Oliver rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to rid himself of a headache. "She told you her plan? Of _course_ Thea told you her plan. Is there anything she _doesn't_ tell you?" He pointed his index finger at the bartender's nose. "_Don't_ answer that unless you want your pretty features rearranged."

Roy snickered. "Considering how well your lessons with Felicity went, I'm not worried, boss."

_Felicity_ Her name instantly conjured the image of her hurt expression as she'd fled the lair after punching him. He'd promised her that he'd handle the gossip columnists. Yet, Felicity and Thea were out clubbing as part of Thea's-no doubt convoluted-scheme to divert the press' attention. He sighed. There was no way this was going to end well.

An hour later, Oliver had managed to share a ten minute conversation with a beautiful young woman without scaring her off. She slipped him her number but surprised him with a wink. When he flipped open the folded business card it read:

Samantha Manning  
Investigative Reporter: Starling City Sentinel

_Great. Smooth moves, Oliver. You weren't charming her, she was reeling you in._

He grumbled a goodbye to Roy and left via the back door. His temper seemed to match the reined-in fury of his bike's engines as he navigated the warren of streets in the Glades. The Ducati Diavel roared in satisfaction as soon as Oliver turned onto the wider lanes of Starling City. He'd almost managed to mellow out and forget about his troubles when he pulled around the drive and slid his bike to a stop.

Looking like a turnip cart surrounded by royal carriages, Felicity's car idled in the drive. Oliver secured his bike in the garage and returned outside in time to meet Felicity as she slipped out of the mansion.

She looked… his brain short circuited when trying to find an adjective. Half of the blame for that could be attributed to her tight blue skirt and filmy white blouse. The other half rested solidly on her shoeless feet and terrified expression. Oliver's emotions rocketed from lust to concern to blinding rage in less than a second.

"What happened?"

She whimpered when his hand gripped her upper arm. He immediately adjusted his grip enough to notice that she was sporting matching bruises on her upper arms. Bruises that closely resembled hand prints…

"How'd you get here so fast? They just called you. I didn't want to call Diggle because he has a date, but I had to because I'm scared and I don't know what to do now and I knew you'd be mad..." Her words just trailed off. He heard this tone of voice from her before: the night they thought Walter was dead. He wasn't angry now, he was sick with worry.

"Felicity? What's wrong? Where's Thea?"

"In the house. I was so scared and they were so much bigger than us and my hand…" She trailed off again, but not before motioning with her splinted right hand.

"Come on!" He was already striding toward the nearest entrance to the mansion. When he realized Felicity wasn't behind him, Oliver stopped, annoyed. Then he saw her pained, barefoot, progress across the same ground she's just covered. He retraced his steps and stopped right in front of her. Without saying a word, he bent and hooked an arm under her knees. She squeaked when he lifted her. That one sound, just for a moment, made his lips twitch toward a smile. "Hold on tight," he whispered against her hair.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Ok, sorry this chapter took a bit of work. There's discussion of male on female violence in here, so please be warned.**

* * *

Oliver pulled Felicity tighter into his chest so he could work the door handle. Turning sideways to get through the doorway, he instantly heard the low drone of voices from a nearby room. He didn't pause to put Felicity down until they were in one of the informal sitting rooms off the kitchen.

"Mr. Queen, I was just calling you…" The deputy head of the Queen family security detail stopped talking. Everyone in the room could hear Oliver's phone buzzing away inside his jacket pocket.

"Just a moment, Fryster." Oliver knelt as he laid his blonde bundle gently in a large wing chair. He grasped her good hand and placed his free hand on her knee. A muscle in his jaw ticked as he noted her torn stockings. "Felicity, look at me."

She didn't want to look into those piercing blue eyes. He saw too much. He'd know instantly that she'd let him down.

"Felicity." When she finally raised her gaze to his face, he spoke again. "I need to check on Thea. I want—no. I _need_ you to stay right here, ok? I'll be right back."

She nodded once.

Oliver turned and stood up in one fluid motion. Thea lay on the couch, eyes wide open but unseeing. Her breathing was a little too shallow for Oliver's comfort, but she didn't appear to be in immediate danger. He looked at the waiting security detail.

"From the brief description of events from Ms. Smoak, we believe that Ms. Queen was drugged. Her symptoms are similar to rohypnol, but there are a few key differences that indicate this might be a designer drug. Her vital signs are not ideal, but she doesn't appear to be in respiratory or cardiac danger. I would still recommend taking her to a hospital for monitoring."

Oliver sat on the couch beside Thea. She was half-reclining with several pillows supporting her upper body. "Hey, Speedy. Can you hear me?" He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when his sister smiled faintly. Without looking away from her, Oliver asked "Is Mr. Diggle on his way?"

"He should be here shortly, sir."

"When he gets here, we can decide if she needs a hospital. He knows where the basic medical supplies are." He saw a flicker of movement to his left. Oliver's arm shot sideways, finger pointed at Felicity. "I told you to stay still."

She was too tired to argue, but her eyes narrowed with a promise that she'd bring this up later. "My car is still running."

"Fryster, please take care of Ms. Smoak's car. She won't be needing it for the rest of the evening." When she opened her mouth to reply, he turned and stared her down.

Several tense minutes passed with Oliver keeping his attention split between Thea and Felicity. When both women shifted positions, Oliver's muscles bunched. He was obviously ready to spring but couldn't decide in which direction. His sister smiled again before her eyes drifted shut. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Felicity rested her head against one of the chair-back wings. She did not appear to be doing anything peacefully.

John Diggle didn't precisely storm into the room, but he moved with a deadly efficiency of purpose. His concerned expression upon seeing Thea went blank when he saw the damage to Felicity's wardrobe. A novice, or a fool, would have mistaken the bland set of his features for casual indifference. A closer examination of his stance and eyes would have shown how very, terrifyingly, angry Diggle was. He stood beside Oliver, looking down at Thea.

"What do you need?"

"Triage and privacy."

The former soldier nodded once. He quickly debriefed the other bodyguards. Then, he issued order for the medical kit to be fetched. Once that task was completed, he returned to Thea's side. The extraneous security men were dismissed. He took her blood pressure, measured her pulse, and verified her respiration rate. Finished, he reported to his employer. "She's sleeping peacefully. I don't think they could do anything more for her at a hospital. The drug is obviously already in her system, so pumping her stomach won't help." He paused, throwing a quick look at Felicity. She was staring into the distance. "Should I call Roy?"

"What? No! Why?"

"Someone should sit with her; since I'll need to keep an eye on Felicity, I thought Roy would be the best choice."

"To sit in my sister's bedroom all night? I think not." Oliver glared when John rolled his eyes. "Not tonight, Dig. Once we get Thea upstairs, can you coordinate with Raisa? She can help get her changed and stay with her while we talk to Felicity. I'll need you on duty after that."

"You don't want to go after these guys tonight?"

"No. We need more information." He brushed a curl off his sister's pale face. "And I'm not leaving Felicity alone tonight."

If that statement shocked Diggle, he failed to show it. He gently carried Thea from the room. Oliver crouched in front of Felicity. He was happy to see that her eyes focused on him.

"You're not going to argue with me about staying here tonight?" She shrugged listlessly. His fears ratcheted up another notch. "Let's go upstairs, ok? We'll get you cleaned up and you can tell us what happened."

"I can walk."

He nodded smartly to acknowledge her defiant statement. He still, however, hovered just behind her as they navigated the stairs and corridors of the Queen mansion. Oliver showed her to a guest room right next to his room. He knew Raisa kept it cleaned and ready. He also knew that the woman Raisa was hoping would return to sleep in that room wasn't coming back anytime soon, if ever.

"Be right back."

While Oliver ducked down the hall to search for the first aid supplies and Diggle, Felicity looked around. She really ought to be impressed by the size and décor of the bedroom. But, exhaustion and the crash from her adrenaline high were definitely taking a toll. She half- sat, half-collapsed into yet another wing chair. A small, still active, part of her brain wondered if the Queens got a bulk deal on expensive furniture items.

The air was cooler. She started to rub her arms through her see-through sleeves, only to stop when the bruises painfully reminded her of their presence. The thought of how she'd earned the marks made her shudder with something other than cold. Oliver walked in, saw her, and quickly stripped out of his leather jacket. He'd been so busy downstairs he's barely paused to unzip it.

"Hey," he said as he carefully draped the coat over her shoulders. "Raisa is grabbing some spare clothes of Thea's. Dig will bring them in a second." He reached out a hand to stroke her curls, but hesitated and moved back instead. "Felicity? Do you need to see a doctor? Or…um…the police?"

She realized what he was asking. "No. I…" she shuddered again. "Nothing that bad happened. I'm just over reacting, you know? Because I've been through worse and obviously I should just…"

A return to her rambling cheered him, but the emotion was short lived when she stopped talking and started staring into the distance again.

"Hey girl." John's large but comforting presence suddenly filled the space around her. He cupped her elbow and helped her rise. "These should fit you ok." He looked down at her, dark eyes taking in every scratch. "You take as long as you need, ok? But before you go in there, you're going to promise me that there's nothing physically wrong beyond what we can see." It was his turn to ask the difficult question without directly asking it. The pointed look he gave her torn blouse was enough.

"Honestly, I wish you two would just ask. Though I'm flattered that you think I could be…you know… and still manage to get Thea home safely. Trust me, I wouldn't be talking—or walking."

Both men grimaced. They prowled the room while she was ensconced in the bathroom.

"I had to ask. Her blouse—"

"I know. I'd already asked her." A pause ensued while they paced some more. "Her left knee is skinned." Oliver sucked in a deep breath and jerked his head around, searching for a target. He needed to be calm for Felicity's sake. The urge to destroy everything between the bedroom and the Glades was seething just below the surface.

"She called me while she was driving back here. Every word out of her mouth was about Thea, or you, or apologizing for interrupting my date. She never said a thing about being hurt." Diggle glanced at the closed door. "Who apologizes for interrupting a date after she's been attacked?"

"Apparently, Felicity."

As if summoned by their conversation, the blonde woman slipped through room, wearing loosing fitting shorts and a t-shirt. She perched on the edge of the bed, her neatly folded, if completely ruined, clothes in her lap. Oliver snickered as he took the neat pile and moved them to a nearby table.

"What?" She might have been battered and exhausted, but she could still snap at him.

"You constantly surprise me, is all." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Those cuts need to be cleaned and bandaged. Diggle or me?"

She nearly yelped her response. Diggle smirked while Oliver remained standing nearby.

"Start at the beginning."

"Where else would I start?"

He sighed. "Felicity…"

"Thea wanted to scout out "757". That's the new club at the corner of—"

"I know where and what "757" is."

"Fine." She jerked slightly as Diggle used tweezers to remove a sliver of glass from her foot. "Also, she said it would be next to impossible to find suitable women while we were at Verdant and you were hovering."

"Find women…"

"For our plan." She winced again. "To find you a girlfriend."

"I don't need your help getting dates!" Oliver roared.

Diggle raised his head to eye them both. "I'm sure this is an argument that can be tabled for a later date." The look he gave his employer was scathing.

Felicity huffed. "Well, anyway, we went there. It was loud and crowded. It felt…dirty, I guess. Not like, health code violation dirty, although I'm certain that I wouldn't want to eat anything served there. Neither one of us was drinking anything other than soda. Thea for obvious reasons and I was the designated driver. Again, for obvious reasons."

"You should have had one of my guys drive you."

"Look," she huffed. "If you two are going to interrupt with criticisms I'll just catch a cab and go home."

"No you won't." Arrogant and authoritarian Oliver had resurfaced. He was so busy trying to control the urge to wrap both women in packing peanuts and never let them leave his sight again, that he didn't think about moderating his tone.

"Hey, Felicity." John pressed lightly on the knee he was bandaging. "We're sorry. No more interruptions. Please tell us what happened, ok?"

"We were standing at a corner table drinking and chatting with people Thea knew-I think she knows half of Starling city under the age of 30—lots of men and women. No one suitable for you. They were all pretty, obviously, which is a requirement for the press to believe this because let's face your taste in women is more supermodel than girl next door. None of them could carry on a coherent conversation, though. They were seriously boring me to tears, and I'm not coherent, obviously, and that's why we were looking for someone that fit a profile because that way the press would easily believe you would truly be dating her. They'll never believe you were dating me once they know anything about me."

Oliver stared at her. He kept his arms crossed. His head tilted to one side. There were several points he wanted to make about this ridiculous plan, but Diggle had promised her silence. So, for now, he'd keep his thoughts to himself

"Some older guys came over. Not creepy weird mid-life crisis, just older than everyone else gathered around. They recognized Thea." Her eyes narrowed. "And they recognized me as "that girl from the pictures with Queen." They made me uncomfortable." She shivered again. "I ignored the feeling because it was loud and I'm not used to all that attention and my feet were hurting."

Diggle noticed her shivering and how crossing her arms made her wince. He also noticed how the pulse point at Oliver's left temple throbbed as he looked at her bruised arms. The nearest covering at hand was Oliver's jacket. Diggle held it out so she could slide her arms into it. When she clutched the engulfing black leather over her chest, she looked younger and more fragile. Finished dressing her cuts, he settled on the floor at her feet. The last thing she needed was two men looming over her; Diggle doubted a nuclear blast could dislodge Oliver from his position.

"After a few minutes, Thea said she was feeling dizzy and nauseated. I helped her to the ladies room. She splashed some water on her face but she was looking really pale and I didn't like it so we decided to leave. I tried to tell them that when they stopped us in the hallway."

"They?"

"Sorry, those same two guys from the table."

"Ok I know we promised no interruptions," Diggle said. "But I want to record your description of these two. I need as much detail as you can remember." He pulled out his phone and hit the "record" button.

"One of them had pale blond hair. He was very Nordic looking. Blue eyes, paler than Oliver's, and he's tall. Much taller than either of you, but not as muscular. Sort of lean like a runner, maybe? The other guy has really big hands and a stocky build. He's got dark eyes and hair, cut short. The hair I mean." She took a deep breath. "He's got a broken nose now too, so he'll be easier to find."

"You broke his nose?"

For a brief moment, Felicity's eyes lit up. "Oh hells yeah. He might have a limp, too."

Oliver grinned while Diggle choked on a laugh. "Maybe you better tell us the rest of the story."

"When we came out of the bathroom, Thea was unsteady. The blonde guy put his arm around her waist and pulled her away from me. I told him to let her go and that's when the short one grabbed me from behind. He gave me these." She rubbed her bruised upper arms. "Blondie said we were invited to a private party. They started dragging us towards the back of the club. We got to a locked door. While Blondie was unlocking it, Thea leaned over and puked all over his shoes. The guy behind me was distracted, so I did what you taught me." Her smile was for Diggle. "I was wearing heels so I stomped down on his foot, slammed my head back against his face and elbowed him."

Oliver stepped closer. His large fingers gently examined the back of her head. "Good size lump back here, but no blood."

Distracted by how very good it felt to have Oliver touching her, Felicity quipped: "Well you've always said I'm hard headed."

He splayed his fingers over her head. "Go on."

"Um, well Blondie was jumping around trying not to get sick, Thuggy was spurting blood from his face and hopping on one foot, so I grabbed Thea's hand and dragged her out the door. I think that's where I lost my first shoe. Pure dumb luck, the door was an emergency exit that led right to a parking lot. I always carry a spare key in my purse, because I had this habit of leaving my keys in random places and then being too embarrassed to have to call Triple-A to get in my car for the umpteenth time. I got Thea in the car—she's heavier than she looks, you know—and sped out of there. Huh. I guess I didn't tip the valet. He probably hates me now."

Both men stared at her, dumbfounded.

"What? It's rude not to tip."

Oliver couldn't contain his laughter any longer. "Ok, you're obviously loopy from exhaustion. I think we have all the description we need for now. Dig, will you check on Thea? I'll join you in a minute."

Diggle patted her knee again as he rose. As the door shut behind him, Oliver removed his hand from Felicity's hair. He stepped back, holding out his hand to help her stand. He pulled her into a tight hug.

"Thank you."

Felicity squirmed until she could look up at him. "I'm sorry. I should have never le…"

Oliver moved his hands to cup her cheeks. "Shh." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You are brave and smart and utterly perfect."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: This chapter starts immediately from where the previous chapter left off: Oliver is cupping Felicity's face in his hands. At least one of you lovely readers noted something Felicity left out of her story. You weren't the only one…**

* * *

Oliver used his thumbs to tip her chin up. "Why didn't you want to tell Diggle how your knee got skinned?"

Felicity blinked and tried to jerk her head from his grasp. Failing to physical evade his question, she tried verbal evasion. "I told you, nothing bad happened."

"I beg to differ." A full minute of silence passed as he waited and she looked everywhere but at his face. "Are you afraid of what I'll do?"

"Yes!" She half sobbed the exclamation. "Not afraid for them, because right now I'm so blood thirsty I _want_ you to put a dozen arrows in each of them." Her hands came up to grip his forearms, although her splinted right hand merely rested on his shirtsleeve. "But you can't go after these guys as the Hood. Don't you see? Detective Lance already knows I work with the Hood. If he sees us together too often he's _going_ to ask more questions. And Oliver, I don't know if you've noticed, but I _suck_ at lying. Add that with the fact that Oliver Queen's little sister got attacked and then those same guys end up with arrows in their chests? Come on, no one is that oblivious."

"Simple. The Hood—and we really need to revisit the conversation where I find a new name—is retaliating for the assault on _you_. You said it yourself, you're a known associate, at least to Lance."

"Psh. The story won't be about me. I'm a nobo—"

He was very gentle, but the pressure of his fingers on her neck and the slightest of shakes interrupted her statement. The blue fire leaping from his eyes helped silence her as well. "I never want to hear you say that again. You are _somebody_ to Thea, to Walter, to Diggle and to me." He saw the tears slip down her cheeks. The pads of his thumbs were too rough to be stroking her soft skin, but he did it anyway to brush away her tears. "Tell me the rest, Felicity."

She hiccupped a sob and lurched forward to bury her face against his chest. "I'm so sorry. I should have been paying more attention! It's my fault, all of it."

It took Oliver a moment to absorb the shock of her body pressed against his. He slowly wrapped his arms around her back.

"I got Thea to the car and got her in, but when I turned around to go to the driver's side, the blonde guy was right there. I tried to run, but I'd lost my shoe and the lot was graveled and I just tripped! Guess that's when my other shoe came off. Then he was grabbing me and turning me over and shouting what he was going to do to me. He ripped at my blouse and I just froze. I couldn't think of what to do and you know, Diggle's training didn't handle what I was supposed to do when an enraged Eric Northman clone had me pinned to the ground."

"Who?" He asked against her hair, since she still hadn't moved.

A laughing hiccup escaped her. "True Blood. One of these days we have to have a "Pop Culture of the past 5 years" marathon."

"We really don't." He let the humorous moment hang in the air before returning to the painful subject. "You told us that you weren't sexually assaulted."

"I wasn't."

"Felicity, a man pinning you to the ground and tearing your blouse open counts as sexual assault."

"Fine," she huffed. "But I got away before anything…worse… happened. My spare key fob was still in my hand and I must have accidentally I hit the alarm button. I guess he was afraid someone would come running. He jumped up and ran away. I crawled to the car door, which…ow… and got in. Drove home, called Diggle on the way. That's it. Promise."

She stepped back, swiped at her damp cheeks with the back of her hand. "See, I'm not so very heroic after all."

His chin dipped and his right eyebrow crooked upward. It was an expression of contemptuous disagreement that Felicity knew all too well. She swiveled her head to watch him as he stepped neatly around to the side of the bed. With a grand sweep of his arm he pulled the covers back. She slipped out of the leather jacket. Handing it to him, she paused beside the bed.

"You tucking me into bed is becoming a habit."

Oliver's brows lowered. He tipped his chin down and leaned his upper body toward her. "One I'm rather enjoying." He traced her cheekbone with the backs of his fingers. "Get some sleep."

* * *

"Well?"

Oliver was bent forward, braced with one arm against the wall outside Thea's room. Without looking up, he asked "You knew she was holding back?"

Diggle snorted. "I picked enough gravel out of her knee to pave a bonsai garden. The blouse?"

"I'd rather not tell you."

Diggle folded his arms and glared. "Why?"

"Because if you knew you'd be as mad as I am right now. I'm not sure the furniture or walls can take the combined assault."

"Fair enough." He pulled out his phone, checked the messages and the app showing the security deployment around the mansion. "Think you can sleep?"

"No." Oliver straightened. "I'll take first watch. Get some sleep; I'll wake you up in a few hours. Digg?"

"Yeah?"

"I want these guys."

"We'll get them."

"I don't plan on being merciful."

John Diggle's dark eyes zeroed in on Oliver Queen. "Neither do I."


	13. Chapter 13

The first thing Felicity Smoak noticed when she woke up was the quiet. Her condo was in a decidedly middle-class section of Starling City but it was still _in_ the city. Traffic noises, the elevator, other tenants traversing the hallways, and myriad other urban sounds formed a background of white noise which permeated her home life. Her office at Queen Consolidated was filled with servers and computers, all with fans running. So, the stillness of the morning weighed upon her in a physical sense.

The second thing she noticed was that she _hurt_. Not just her hand-she'd grown shockingly used to the dull ache of her broken finger—no, this was an entire-body ache that elicited both a groan and a whimper. She tried to shift her position (it didn't help the pain) and that's when she realized why everything was so different. She was in the Queen mansion. _That_ thought sparked the memories of the previous night, which explained her body pains.

Felicity opened her eyes to peer around the guest room. She'd noted the expensive décor before, but seeing it in daylight was more intimidating. There was something about the muted colour choices, heavy wood trim, thick legged chairs, and fresh flowers that made her feel very out of place. Honestly, fresh flowers? Had those been there the night before? She really didn't want to think about the implications if the tasteful arrangement had appeared while she was sleeping.

Sleeping…in the Queen Mansion…in Thea Queen's donated clothes…down the hall from Oliver Queen…who had tucked her into bed _again_.

"Crapsicles." With that dry assessment of her feelings, Felicity flung the covers back and stepped from the bed.

Or she would have, if the soles of her feet hadn't let her know, with great alacrity and ferocity, just how badly they'd been torn-up. As it was, she stumbled and whimpered her way from the bed to the door. She paused to look down at her t-shirt—muted gray cotton emblazoned with the hot pink words "Drama Queen"- and her loose fitting shorts. Her blue eyes flitted to the table where her ruined clothes from the previous night should have been. They were gone. Obviously someone _had_ been in her room while she slept. That drew a frown.

All Felicity really wanted to do was flee the Queen household before she had to deal with any of the residents or the emotions they evoked. However, she didn't have her purse, car keys, clothes, shoes, or phone. If she was going to escape this benevolent incarceration, she'd need help.

Limping along the hallway, she found her way to the main staircase. A well-built man in a suit looked up at her. He nodded smartly, and then shifted his focus back to the door and the downstairs hallway. From his dress, stance, and deportment, the man was obviously one of Diggle's security team. Sadly, she couldn't remember the man's name.

His gaze flicked back to her when she finally made it down the stairs and stopped a few feet away. "Good morning, ma'am."

"Uh, hi. Um, I came in late last night, actually it was morning, but not, you know, sun-up morning, just after mid-night morning. Anyway, I kind of need my keys and…stuff… back."

"Sorry ma'am, you'll have to ask Mr. Diggle about that."

"Of course. Yeah Digg.. I mean _Mr._ Diggle will know what I need. I mean, with the keys and all not…" She sighed. "How do I find him?"

Completely unfazed by her random conversational style, the man pointed to a connecting hallway. "Down that way, fifth door on your left. That's the kitchen. He should be there getting coffee."

"Fifth door?" Felicity muttered to herself as she limped along. "Who has hallways long enough for five doors? Well, Oliver freaking Queen, of course." She whimpered again as the throbbing in her feet increased. Then she had to stop and glance behind her to re-count the doorways. She was still muttering in an irritated voice when she stopped in the kitchen doorway.

The kitchen was, predictably, huge. Felicity didn't do a lot of cooking—paring down recipes to a single serving was just too pathetic—but she did catch the odd cooking show. So, she knew enough to recognize expensive appliances and fancy gadgets. Across an expansive island, John Diggle was just lifting a cup of coffee to his mouth. Felicity smiled at him, happy to see a familiar face. Before she could speak, though, the security consultant nodded brusquely.

"Good morning Miss Smoak. Would you like some coffee?" Diggle's tone was formal. His eyes cut sharply to the side while he was speaking.

Felicity wasn't _that_ blonde, as she often reminded the men in her life, so she clamped her mouth shut and walked fully into the room. Once there she looked to her left, around the edge of a commercial-grade refrigerator, and saw…

"Walter? I mean, Mr. Steele?"

Walter Steele, elegantly dressed and showing not a single trace of jet-lag, chuckled. "Felicity, I do believe this family will be forever in your debt. Surely that puts us on a first name basis?"

"Oh good," she sighed. "Does it put us on a hugging basis? I mean because you're still kind of my boss and so very proper and there's Diggle, he gets shocked easily. I mean, in my limited experience, he seems to, anyway. Also, I'm standing here barefoot wearing your step-daughter's clothes and I haven't even looked in a mirror—"

Diggle knew it was only a matter of time before Felicity's verbal train careened off the rails and into full-blown , panic induced, catastrophe. He interrupted her by shoving a steaming mug of coffee under her nose. "Drink this."

Oliver and Thea's soon-to-be-former step-father arriving was going to put a serious dent in Oliver and Diggle's vengeance-seeking plans. While Queen Consolidated certainly needed Walter's business acumen, Starling City's vigilante trio did not need his hawk-like powers of perception hovering about. Unfortunately, Diggle had been forced by necessity to give Walter the bare-bones story of Thea and Felicity's narrow escape the night before. He'd known that one look at Felicity's visibly bruised arms would raise uncomfortable questions.

"My staff forwards me the interesting gossip column tidbits about Oliver and Thea. I was surprised to hear of your relationship." The British man put just enough emphasis on the last word of his sentence to convey polite skepticism.

Felicity glowered over the rim of her mug. "Oh that stupid article! I swear I should just give an interview and explain how ridiculous this whole thing is. Oliver tried to show me how to punch someone and I did it wrong and broke my hand. He felt guilty and _insisted_ upon taking me to the ER. Which I _told_ him would end badly but he _never_ listens!"

If anything, this outburst seemed to increase Walter's questions. "Why would Oliver be showing you how to punch someone? Has someone been bothering you?"

Diggle jumped in before Felicity backed herself—further—into a verbal corner. "Miss Smoak has been doing charity work in the Glades. It's never been the safest area of town, as you know. Sadly, she chose to seek Mr. Queen's guidance instead of coming to me."

Felicity startled both men by sticking her tongue out at Diggle.

"I learned my lesson." She motioned with her splinted hand.

"If the accounts of last night are any indication, I'd say you learned your lessons very well. Bravo." Walter beamed at her, which made Felicity's fair skin flush.

"How is Thea? I'd like to see her before I leave, but I don't want to wake her. Though, maybe she doesn't want to see me. I can understand not wanting any reminders of _that_ experience."

"I saw her about an hour ago. She was up and talking to Mr. Queen. I seriously doubt you'll be allowed to leave without seeing her." Diggle's tone and expression, more than his words, made it crystal clear to Felicity that she wasn't going anywhere until Oliver and he deemed it safe.

"It seems you made quite an impression."

"That she did." Diggle mock-toasted her with his coffee. "What was the word she used…"

"Demented?" Felicity ran through a list of emotive words. "Deranged? Incoherent with fear? Wait, that was three words."

"Ferocious," said a deep voice from directly behind her. "The exact word Thea used was _ferocious_."

* * *

**A/N: I love the character of Walter so much (especially his interactions with Thea) that I just had to bring him back. Hey, it's my story, I can include who I want!**


	14. Chapter 14

Oliver Queen stepped to one side of Felicity and smiled warmly at the men in the room. "Good morning, Walter. Can you excuse me for a just a minute? Thea's got me running errands for her." He plucked the coffee mug from Felicity's hands and steered her-via the presence of a warm hand splayed across her lower back—out the door.

"I was drinking that!"

"No you weren't, you were gushing over Walter and complaining about how I never listen to you."

She made a disgruntled noise.

"How did you sleep?"

"Fine. Great really."

He stopped and looked down at her feet as she tried to limp at his pace. When he stepped closer, she startled him by pushing firmly on his chest with both hands.

"Oh no you don't, Mr. Queen. You can _not_ pick me up and carry me around your mansion."

His eyebrow quirked. "I'm certain I can. I seem to recall…"

"Oliver," Felicity hissed. "Remember how this whole thing started? If we're ever going to convince the press, and everyone you know, that you're not some abusive boyfriend slash pervy boss, you're going to have to stop being so—"

"Concerned? Helpful?"

"Obnoxiously protective! I can walk. Maybe not as quickly as you can, or as quickly as you'd like, because you like to do everything fast, except talk, but I got down here just fine and I'm pretty sure—what?"

He repeated, "That wasn't how all of this started. This whole mess started because you couldn't control your temper." Oliver grinned at her outraged expression. "Also, because I was being a grumpy ass. Now you're yelling at me for being nice."

"I wasn't yelling," she mumbled. She looked contritely up at him. "Sorry. As a compromise, maybe you could help with the stairs?" She regretted that concession when they reached the base of the wide staircase. Oliver didn't give her any warning before he scooped her up. "I meant I could lean on your arm!"

Eyes twinkling, he looked down at her. "Keep complaining and I'll carry you right into Thea's room."

"You… I can't believe you'd… gah!" She fumed quietly and tried not to think about the ridges of muscle in the arms holding her so easily, or the hard chest her side was pressed against. She most definitely did not think about how soft the hair was at his nape, or how nice it would feel to run her fingers through it.

She was so busy _not_ thinking about such things that it took her a moment to focus when Oliver set her back on her feet. "Oh, um, thanks."

"No problem. Text me when you're ready to carried back to your room."

Her eyes narrowed. "Firstly: no. I've had quiet enough of being carted around like your personal sack of potatoes. Eh—hush!" She wagged her finger in his face to further silence his impending argument. "Secondly, I cannot text you because you, or Diggle, and frankly I'm not sure I care which one of you is behind it because you're both over-reacting and being stupidly possessive, but you're in front of me now so you get blamed. Blamed for taking my phone. And my purse, car keys, clothes—"

"You were in no condition to drive last night—"

"Fine! I get that. But I'm ok to drive now and I really just want to go—"

"We're not being ridiculous. You were attacked last night! The valet at the club still has your keys." Oliver nodded briefly to emphasize his point. "You'd forgotten about that hadn't you?"

"I'm not stupid enough to leave my apartment key on the ring when I hand the keys over to the valet!"

"Only because Dig and I drilled it into your head over and over again!"

"That's crap Oliver! I forgot _one_ time and that was at Verdant! I can take care of myself! You aren't responsible for me!"

"Yes I am!" He roared his response while stepping closer to her. His right hand slapped, open palm, against the wall behind her. "Do you have any idea how much you mean to me? To the team?"

"Well which is it, Oliver? You or the team?"

"I'm _trying_ Felicity. I'm trying to be worth…to be the person you…" He trailed off, thoroughly miserable.

Felicity raised her hand again, this time to touch his cheek. She couldn't stay mad at him, not when he looked so lost. Before she could do or say anything, though, the door to Thea's room opened.

"Are you two _sure_ you're not a couple? `cuz I'm hearing a pretty intense argument here. You might want to take it somewhere private, though. Talk about the gossip…"

Oliver glared at his sister. She smirked back. With a defiant flip of her head, she turned away from her brother and pulled Felicity into the room. The door shut in Oliver's face.

Behind the door, Felicity's shoulders slumped. "You're not helping, Thea."

"Well I guess that depends on what you think I'm trying to do." There was a mischievous glint to the young brunette's features. "Whoa, you look awful."

"Thanks," Felicity quipped.

"Come sit down. Oliver will never forgive me if you fall over and he's not here to catch you."

Felicity took a seat on the corner of Thea's bed while simultaneously shaking her head. "You have a very weird idea of my relationship with Oliver."

"So there _is_ something there!" Thea clasped here hands in front of her and hopped onto the bed. "I knew it!"

"Friendship, Thea. I'm not even sure that's what it is in Oliver's case. Exasperation seems to be his primary emotion where I'm concerned."

"Ha!"

Felicity winced at Thea's shout. She rubbed her forehead. "I guess you aren't suffering from any hang-over like effects?"

Thea shrugged her thin shoulders. She wore a pale grey T and comfortable jeans. Her hair was pulled up in a sloppy ponytail and she wore no make-up, but she still looked every inch the billionaire's daughter. "I had a headache when I woke up, but nothing an espresso and two aspirin wouldn't cure. I'm really hazy on details, though. I kind of remember you kicking some serious ass but… Hey! You're not the Hood, are you?"

"What?" Felicity's shriek of dismay hurt her own head. She glanced frantically at the door, afraid Oliver or Diggle would come running at the noise. "That's ridiculous," she hissed. "One, the Hood is a guy. Two, I look awful in green. Three, I cannot shoot arrows or kick ass, or climb buildings or…"

"Well," Thea talked right over Felicity's argument. "We _assume_ the Hood is a guy. Wouldn't it be really badass if _he_ was really a _she?"_

"No, no it wouldn't." The blonde groaned. "Besides, Roy has met the Hood, hasn't he? Just ask him."

Thea's nose wrinkled. "No. He does enough obsessing over that guy. Speaking of Roy, I need your help."

"Uh?" Felicity's brain was still filled with images of her in Oliver's Hood get-up.

"Yeah, um, he's kind of pissed at me for not calling him sooner—"

"You _were_ kind of unconscious."

"I know, right? But he's really angry and wanting to go hunt these guys down. I just need to calm him down. It's not the first time a girl's been roofied in this town, ya know?"

That observation was too depressing for words, so Felicity just sat there.

"Anyway, I can't get him into the house with Oliver here, _so_, I was wondering if you could let my over-protective big brother take you home?"

Felicity's hands came up to cover her face. "No. I told Oliver this the first day we met and I'm telling you now: I am _not_ getting involved in some Shakespearean drama."

"Aren't you already involved?"

"Against my will, trust me. If I hadn't tried to help Walter… wait, how are you going to manage getting Roy past Walter?"

"Walter's here?" Thea squealed with joy as she vaulted from the bed. Where?"

Felicity was holding her head again. _She_ hadn't been offered aspirin and she hadn't even finished her first cup of coffee. "Downstairs, in the kitchen, I think. He and Oliver had some sort of business meeting so I'm…" She trailed off, realizing that Thea'd already sprinted from the room.

"And I _still_ don't have my keys or phone." Grumbling about over-protective men and bad life-choices, Felicity limped out of Thea's room.

* * *

**A/N: I had serious problems with this chapter. I think this is the fourth version! Sorry It took so long.**


	15. Chapter 15

Oliver found Walter still in the kitchen, still being watched by Diggle.

"Sorry about that. Good flight?"

"It was fine. Oliver, Mr. Diggle has given me a brief description of last night's incident. But, after seeing after seeing Felicity's arms, I'm gravely concerned. Why weren't the police called?"

"Because the Starling City Police Department has a less than favorable opinion of this family? Thea and Felicity are both ok, thanks to Felicity's quick thinking and heroic actions."

Walter's frown didn't dissipate. He made Oliver feel as if he could see right through his charade.

"We don't have the names of the perpetrators. I was going to suggest that Ms. Smoak check the society blogs to see if she could identify one or both of them." Diggle hadn't planned to do that until he said it aloud, but it sounded like a reasonable course of action. From the look on Oliver's face, though, it was a horrible plan.

"I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone to deal with this, Oliver." Walter quickly added, "Not because you aren't capable. You have so much on your plate right now, though."

Oliver's lips quirked. "That's why you're here. I need your help with the shareholders. I thought we'd better discuss things here at the house before moving to the office. I'm not sure I can trust—"

The rest of Oliver's statement was truncated by a shrieking dervish who vaulted across the room and into Walter's arms. "You're home! You're home and I missed you so much and I'm so glad you're home and stop talking about stupid shareholders and options and dividends and all the stupid words that Ollie is always grumbling about and just say you'll stay. At least for awhile?"

Chuckling, the British man responded, "I'll stay as long as Oliver—and you—need my help." He kissed the top of her head (Which action Oliver noted and realized that it was indeed similar to how he'd kissed Felicity. _That_ was a disturbing thought) and soothed her hair. "Good morning, Thea. I see you're showing no ill effects from last night's adventures?"

"Pft." Thea's slim fingers waggled in the air. "I was more of a stoned-out bystander. _Unintentionally_ stoned," she added. "Felicity was _awesome_. Did you hear what she did? It was so cool. Well, the parts I remember, which isn't a lot really."

"Thea? Did you leave Felicity in your room?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, possibly. Sorry. You should really take her home, Ollie. There're probably paparazzi at her door, now."

Eyes narrowed, because he just knew he wasn't going to like this answer, he growled. "Why?"

"Well they didn't know her name before, did they?"

"What have you done, Thea?"

"She was out with me and I _had_ to introduce her to my friends, now didn't I?" Sensing that Oliver's temper was close to boiling over, Thea tucked Walter's arm around her shoulders. "They would have figured out who she was soon enough!"

"Thea, you brat if you've caused her anymore pain…"

"Who?" Felicity limped back into the kitchen. "Oh, hi again, Walter. Why are you all still standing here in the kitchen? I'm pretty sure there are chairs in this house. I sat in at least two of them last night. Nice chairs. Unless you're moving them to a third floor apartment in a building with no elevator, that is. Which, why would you be? I need coffee."

Diggle poured another cup. He handed it to Oliver who handed it to Felicity. As he did so, he stepped in front of her, blocking her from Walter and Thea's line of sight. "I'm going to take you home, ok?" He frowned when she looked around him to glare at Thea. "What?"

"Shakespearean drama."

"I told you, the first day we met, I didn't study Shakespeare."

"You remembered?" She looked up at him, surprised, while adjusting her glasses.

"Of course." He smiled at her. It was the special "Oliver" smile that he only shared with her. The moment ended when he saw the bruises on her arms. "We need to find you something less revealing to wear. Digg?"

"On it. Miss Queen, you wouldn't happen to have a sweater or hoodie that Ms. Smoak could borrow?"

The three men in the room stared, confused, at Thea as she doubled over with giggles. Diggle looked at Felicity, who was rubbing her aching head. "What did I say?"

"Thea is under the, apparently _hilarious_, delusion that _I_ am The Hood."

Walter chuckled and made a comment about being ridiculous. Diggle was trying very hard not to laugh. Oliver was stone faced.

"I told her I look awful in green."

"I think you both have head injuries. Walter I've set up an officer here at the house. If you'll follow me I'll get you started with the notes I've made. Felicity if you'd like to sit down, I'll be back in a few minutes. Diggle will try to find something warmer for you to wear. Thea, stop suffocating Walter. Oh, and Roy will be here in a few minutes. You can see him in the front room. He will _not_ go upstairs, understood?"

"You can't…"

"Thea." Walter and Oliver both said her name, in identical tones of warning, at the same time.

"Fine."

Walter followed Oliver from the room and Diggle went with Thea to get more clothing for Felicity. Felicity stood in the quiet kitchen, sipping her coffee and ruminating on the weird turn her life had taken. Not that her life had been exactly "normal" since Oliver Queen had wandered into her office holding a bullet riddled laptop…

"Felicity?"

"Mm? Oh sorry, John, just thinking."

"You ok?" His dark brown eyes searched her face. She smiled up at him, placed the empty mug on the marble countertop, and wrapped her arms around his waist. She felt more than heard his chuckle. "I guess this means yes?"

"I never said thank you."

"I'm pretty sure you did." He gently disentangled himself. "Thea didn't have much in the way of concealing clothing, unless you wanted to wear one of her old school blazers. But I found this," he held up a Starling City Rockets cap. "And this." He had a long coat draped over his arm. "Also, your feet are only one size smaller than Thea's. So, shoes!"

She giggled.

"What?"

"You're such a guy." When he looked confused she grinned. "Only a guy would think to combine these boots with this coat and a baseball cap."

Diggle crossed his arms over his chest. "Drama Queen," he muttered. It was an obvious reference to the logo on her borrowed shirt _and_ her behavior.

"Only by association," she shot back. She slipped on the boots hat and coat.

Oliver walked back into the room. "I thought I told you to sit down?"

"And I thought I told you I wasn't your prize spaniel and that I didn't respond to sit-stay commands."

Oliver looked at Diggle. "Remember when she didn't argue with everything I said?"

Diggle rubbed his chin. "No." He nodded at his friends. "I'll go get the car."

Oliver gave Felicity a once-over. "Nice boots."

"Thanks."

"Here's your purse, with keys, phone, and whatever else you have in there. How can something to tiny hold so much?"

"Undetectable Extension Charm."

Oliver looked at her blankly.

"Never mind."

"You don't have to go," Oliver suddenly blurted. He looked, uncertain and uneasy. It was, Felicity thought, one of his "innocent, pre-island" expressions. He rarely used it with her or Diggle. Typically it had been reserved for interactions with Tommy or Laurel.

"I need to. I need a shower and my bed and some alone time to sort through all the thoughts in my head. It's not your house, it's me."

"Oh, if I had a dollar for every time a girl had used that line on me," Oliver quipped. His playboy grin resurfaced. He motioned toward the front door.

Felicity smiled up at him. "You'd be a billionaire?"

"Oh wait…" they both said simultaneously.


	16. Chapter 16

Felicity frowned at the black Mercedes and the man holding open the rear passenger door. "This is the opposite of subtle. Remember our plan, the very clever plan? The one where we didn't give in to press speculation about non-existent abuse and non-existent relationships?"

"That was _your_ plan. I have my own." Oliver rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Get in the car, I'll explain on the way."

She muttered something about grumpy bosses and glared at Diggle when he chuckled. In an obvious bid to keep her from haranguing him, Oliver started talking the moment he slid onto the seat beside her.

"Your plan to distract the press was too convoluted to work. It has already backfired because Thea introduced you to half of the Starling City social scene. The paparazzi now have your name and are scouring the internet for every picture and article ever written about you. They'll be camped outside your apartment."

"I realize that, but this will all go away much faster if we don't give them photo opportunities. You escorting me to my front door in a grand walk of shame is a great example of what we should _not_ be doing."

"Or you and Thea can stand up in front of the press and tell them exactly what happened last night."

"No! Big tall glass of nope. No, no. Not going-"

He reached over and lightly grasped her left hand. "Felicity, remember what you told me in the hospital? About how sad it was that so many women in this city couldn't feel safe in their own homes? I, we, cannot stop every crime in this city. I've told you that before. Remember what you said?"

She ducked her head and bit her lip. "That doesn't mean we shouldn't try to stop some of them."

"Exactly." His fingers squeezed gently around hers. "We can't stop every instance of domestic abuse or date rape that occurs in this city. But we can make a stand and we can encourage others to fight with us."

Diggle, from the front seat, added, "There's no way you and Thea were the first women those two assholes assaulted. You know they'll try again. You need to go to the police and then to the press."

"And when they show up with arrows in them?"

Oliver's lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't respond, but Diggle did.

"Then there's less suspicion pointing back to Oliver. Once their descriptions are on the evening news, and on every social blog in the city, it eliminates the possibility that the Hood is getting his information directly from you."

"Lance will know differently."

"Lance is welcome to catch the guys on his own, if he can beat me to them," Oliver growled.

Those words left them in silent contemplation. Diggle watched the road and the cars around them. Oliver stared out the window, wishing he felt more secure leaving the matter to police. Sadly, the justice system all too often failed the victims of assault and date rape. Felicity toyed with a loose thread on the left sleeve of her borrowed coat. She noted that Oliver still held her hand. His thumb stroked over her knuckles in an absent-minded, soothing, gesture.

She suddenly jolted. "Oh my gosh I was supposed to be at work hours ago! Where's my phone, I've got to call and apologize for being late. We have that offsite data storage firm coming in today and—"

Oliver reached over and plucked her phone from her hand. "Felicity, I already rescheduled that meeting and explained to the staff that you were ill."

"I'm not…" She trailed off when he raised an eyebrow. "Fine." She looked out the window, trying to settle her nerves. When she swung her head back around, there was a challenging glint to her blue eyes. "You don't let Digg take a day off when he's been shot, or stabbed, or beat up. Are you coddling me, Mr. Queen?"

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Digg, would you like to take a day off next time you get an owie?"

The man in the front seat chuckled. "Don't hit him, Felicity, even if he's being annoying. Your hand needs to heal first."

"I don't know why I put up with you teasing me."

"Two words," Oliver whispered as he leaned in close. He stared right into her face and carefully enunciated each word in a low, husky, voice. "Salmon ladder." When he leaned back to watch her blush spread across her cheekbones, there was a satisfied smirk on his face.

They reached the parking garage beside Felicity's building with Felicity still flustered, Oliver still holding her hand, and Diggle checking on the both of them via the rear view mirror. The car slowed next to the elevator entrance. Diggle looked around, eyes narrowed.

"I don't like your parking situation, Felicity. There's not enough security. Anyone can get in or out of here. Is there even a code for the elevator?"

Oliver turned his head and looked at her.

Felicity snatched her purse from the seat. "You're both ridiculous. We can't all live in castles." She reached for the door handle, but Oliver stopped her.

"Digg, wait with the car? I'll be back in a few." He marched quickly around the vehicle to open Felicity's door for her. Pointedly ignoring her dirty look, he splayed his hand across her lower back while they walked to the elevator. Once they were inside the elevator (There hadn't been any sort of key or security code for the elevator. Oliver made note of that fact for future arguments.), he turned his head to look down at her. The brim of the baseball cap hid her eyes.

"That hat looks ridiculous." He snatched it off then stood, spellbound, as her hair tumbled down her shoulders.

"I think Digg was going for anonymity?"

Oliver barely heard her. He was fighting the urge to run his hands through that glorious golden hair. He'd always been attracted to her on some level, but this…urgency… was new. He had to really fight the urge to touch her.

"What?" Her concerned question brought him back to Earth.

"Hmm?"

"What did I do now? You're looking at me…"

"Relax. I'm not going to eat you."

They both blinked, stunned at the words that had come out of Oliver's mouth. The elevator bell dinged, announcing Felicity's floor.

"Uh, show time, I guess." She glanced up at him, nerves making her frantic once more. "What should I say? We never went over what I'm supposed to say and there's sure to be someone outside my door. You said it yourself that there would be. I have no idea what to do in these situations!"

Oliver brushed the hair back off her shoulders and tipped her chin up with his knuckles. "Say whatever you want, or say nothing at all. I'll back you up, whatever decision you make."

"Ok." She took a deep breath before turning and exiting the elevator. As soon as she saw the five photographers jammed in the narrow hallway outside of her apartment, she squeaked in alarm. Oliver's hand against her back, pushing her forward, was the only thing that kept her from fleeing.

The paparazzi started shouting questions all at once. The cameras flashed and Felicity blinked. The sudden cavalcade of light and sound made her headache come rushing back. She didn't want to deal with this right now. She wanted peace and quiet.

"Ms. Smoak does not have a statement at this time. If you'll be so kind as to let us through, she'll grant interviews when she's ready." Oliver looked and spoke like the easy going billionaire that was his public persona.

"What about you, Mr. Queen? What's your relationship with Ms. Smoak? What kind of statement will she be giving? Do you two have an announcement to make?"

"Ms. Smoak is a valued member of my team at Queen Consolidated. She's also my very good friend. Please excuse us." He shut the door in their faces.

Felicity was already stripping out of her borrowed coat and boots. She tried to hand them back to her boss, but he shook his head. "I can't very well carry your clothing back down the hallway past those reporters."

"Oh, right. Sorry. Not thinking. I'm new at this, ok?"

"Just leave them here. You can return them later, once the attention has died down." He glanced around. "I'm trying to find a polite way to ask this, but…"

She'd already noticed his barely contained energy and quickly moving eyes. "Yes, you can check my apartment for locked windows. Be sure to look for monsters under the bed." That quip earned her another tight lipped look.

By the time he had finished prowling around her place, Felicity was in the tiny kitchen. She'd gulped down two aspirin and was contemplating which she wanted more, a shower or sleep.

"Everything's secure," Oliver stated unnecessarily. He noticed how tired she looked. "Do you want me to stay?"

She smiled. "Thanks, but I really just want a shower and a really long nap. I won't be able to relax if you're out here on the couch." She winced at his brief, stricken, expression. "That's not what I meant. I'd just be worried about you being uncomfortable and thinking about what you could be doing instead of babysitting me and… You know not to take anything I say seriously, right?"

He shook his head as he crossed the floor to her. "The opposite, actually. You have an amazing capacity for truth. I love that about you. Please don't ever stop."

"Didn't my amazing capacity for blurting out uncomfortable truths get us in this mess?"

"Maybe we should stop seeing it as a mess and start appreciating the opportunity. Felicity…I can't ever thank you. You've saved my family, each of us, first Walter, now Thea, and even me. You keep saving me, even when I don't deserve it. I'm supposed to be the savior."

She placed her undamaged hand gently on his forearm. "Oliver. You don't _have_ to save everyone, ok? You have friends. Friends help each other."

"Even when we're being awfully hard to like?"

It was her turn to grin. "Especially then."

She hugged him quickly, but pulled away when his chin dipped toward her hairline. "You've got to stop doing that."

"What?"

"You know what. Kissing me on my forehead. The big brother kiss. You're making a habit out of it. It's sweet and I love it, I mean…never mind. But you are going to forget and do it in front of someone and then we'll have even more explaining to do."

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'm going to let you get some rest. Call me or Diggle when you're ready to go out again, ok? You don't have a car," he reminded her.

She nodded. He stepped back but lifted her splinted hand to his lips. Holding her gaze, he brushed his lips across her splinted knuckles. "When this hand is better, we're going to talk about acceptable public displays of affection." He squeezed her fingers gently. "Lock the door behind me."

Oliver left her standing there, mouth slightly parted, eyes glazed over with both exhaustion and emotion.

* * *

**Ok, first, how awesome was that premiere for Season 2? When Moira told Oliver that it was a FAMILY business, I did a Felicity fist pump and yelled "called it". Then I had to explain to my husband about this fanfic. I'm so happy they brought Walter back to help, even if it was only for that one brief scene!**  
**Anyway, this story is obviously non-canon starting with Season 2. I hope that doesn't limit your enjoyment.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Just a quick note: In this story, Quentin Lance is still a detective.**

* * *

Detective Lance sat perched on the edge of a sofa worth more than his annual salary. He flipped his paper notepad closed and turned off the record function on his phone. His features hid none of his emotional turmoil. Since the earthquake, Lance had a bond with Felicity. He genuinely cared for her safety. He had trouble seeing Thea, though, as anything other than a spoiled brat. Oliver's presence in the room wasn't improving his mood either. Neither the SCPD detective nor Walter Steele, seated nearby, missed Oliver's symbolic position. He stood behind the sofa where his sister and employee were seated, his hands bracketing the two women.

"And you? Where were you during all of this?" Lance's question was directed at Oliver. His tone was, as usual, scornful.

"At Verdant. I knew Felicity would be with Thea. I trust Felicity implicitly."

"A trust well earned, it would seem," interjected Walter. His smile reassured the blonde IT whiz. "Detective, if you have no further questions, the ladies need to prepare for their press conference."

"Putting out descriptions of your attackers _could_ be interpreted as obstructing justice and encouraging vigilantism."

"Detective, your department puts out descriptions of wanted persons every day. We're merely assisting you in your efforts by informing the public. This family and this company attract a lot of media attention. We'd like to use that for good, finally." Oliver's tone was as conciliatory and reasonable as he could make it.

"Fine. I suggest you ladies stay close to home, just in case these perps seek revenge for becoming Starling's Most Wanted."

"We won't let them out of our sight," Oliver said while placing his hands on each of their shoulders.

While Oliver and Walter walked the detective to the door, Thea went to touch up her makeup. Diggle joined Felicity in the kitchen. She sipped water while tapping her nails against the countertop. She'd taken the time to repaint them; her colorful polish had been horribly chipped during the previous night's struggles.

"How you holding up?"

Her nose wrinkled. "Fine. I'm going to get tired of people asking me that, aren't I?"

"Probably. Did you call your folks?" It had been Diggle's suggestion to call her parents and tell them about the attack _before_ they heard it on the nightly news.

"Yeah. That went…not well. The usual arguments about the city not being safe and plenty of good jobs in nice, safe, Coast City, waiting for me, yadda yadda."

"You should take some time off to go see them, when this is over."

Her head tilted to one side. "But it's never over, is it? As soon as one crisis is averted, another appears. This is my life now."

Diggle looked sad. "Felicity I know how a team can become your family, your whole world. But don't make the mistake I did. I failed to spend time with my brother when I had the chance. I don't want you missing the opportunity to live your life because we're so busy." He lightly clasped her shoulders. "Oliver wouldn't want it either." He cocked his head, listening to the sounds from other rooms. "Ready for round two?"

"Oh sure," she gulped her water down. "How do I look?"

"Ferocious." Diggle motioned toward the door while smiling down at her.

"I'm not sure that was the look I was going for."

"It works for you, trust me."

**Five hours later**, Felicity leaned against the railing of the VIP balcony in Verdant. She hadn't wanted to come to the club. The last thing her aching body needed was being crushed in a crowd or assaulted by the pounding music. But Oliver insisted he had a hunch and, as usually happened, he'd been right. Within fifteen minutes of Thea and Felicity's arrival, women were quietly asking to speak to them in private. The number of ladies sharing similar stories of assault was heartbreaking. Most of them had not been as fortunate as Thea and Felicity.

"Here," said a deep voice right behind her.

Felicity jumped before a familiar hand squeezed her shoulder.

"Sorry. I shouldn't sneak up on you."

She looked over her shoulder at Oliver. "You can't help it." She took the drink he offered her.

"Sip it," he tried to warn her. His pupils expanded when she slammed back half of the whiskey. "Roy made it strong."

"I like them strong."

Oliver stepped closer until he was pressed, lightly, against her back and side. He watched her, waiting for her babbled apology for her double entendre. His eyebrows reached for his hairline when she stared back defiantly, not taking back a single word.

"Ready to get out of here?"

"Can we? You were right, of course. There's been so many…" Felicity hunched her shoulders and gripped the tumbler. "I don't want to leave Thea alone to deal with anyone else coming up here."

"She's going down closer to the bar. Roy and Diggle will stay with her. I'll take you home."

Her blue eyes shone with intensity. "I don't want to go home, yet."

His answering smile was almost predatory. "I didn't think you would."

Oliver escorted Felicity down the stairs. They made their way, slowly, across the floor toward the bar. Even in her most comfortable pumps, Felicity's feet were still sore. People moved out of their way. Oliver's social smile was plastered to his face, but he didn't invite conversation. Still, the press of bodies wrought havoc on Felicity's nerves. By the time they reached the bar she was as close as she could comfortably get to Oliver's side. He'd moved from having a hand on her lower back to an arm completely wrapped around her waist.

Oliver nodded at Diggle. He narrowed his eyes at Roy, who had an arm around Thea. "I'm taking Felicity home. Mr. Diggle, can you please make sure my sister is escorted home?"

Thea rolled her eyes. Roy visibly swallowed a retort. Diggle nodded. "Absolutely Mr. Queen."

Thea pulled away from Roy long enough to give Felicity an exuberant hug. "Thanks for coming. This couldn't have been easy. We need to have a girls night that is just us, for fun, ok?" She watched Felicity nod. "Ollie, you make sure she gets home safely. If you need to stay at her place, we'll all understand."

Oliver's arm flexed around Felicity. "Thea?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

He steered them toward the back door. For the benefit of anyone watching, they actually exited the building before re-entering through the basement door. Once in the lair, Oliver helped Felicity slide her arms into her cardigan and pulled her chair out for her.

"You're going to look through Verdant security feeds to see if you can identify those two?"

"Yup."

"Need any help?"

She chuckled. "No, Oliver, this is my thing. Go work out."

Already removing his suit coat, he stilled. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Ok." He started working on the buttons of his shirt. Nimble fingers stopped, though, when he saw her watching. "Aren't you supposed to be staring at the monitor?"

She jumped and blushed. Her loosely piled hair slipped a bit when she jerked her head in indignation. "Well if you don't want an audience, Oliver, don't put on a show!" With a huff, she turned around in her chair.

Time slipped away from them both. Felicity poured through endless hours of security footage from Verdant. Frustrated with her fruitless efforts, she turned to hacking the feed from 757. Or more precisely, she _tried_ to hack the feed from 757. The club only had one wireless port and, despite sitting behind a very secure password and impressive firewall, it yielded no valuable information.

Across the basement, Oliver worked off some of his pent-up rage and frustration. He hadn't changed his mind: he still wanted to put an arrow through the knees of the men who'd dared to hurt his sister and friend. Diggle had been the one to suggest letting Felicity and Thea share their story with the public. He thought, and Oliver begrudgingly agreed, that the two women would feel less victimized if they played a role in their attacker's capture. Oliver knew that Felicity would handle the police inquiry and her searches in the lair with aplomb. The more public role was intended for Thea. Unfortunately, the press had other ideas. Snippets from the press conferences played through Oliver's head as he punched a hanging bag.

"_Ms. Smoak, how can you continue to work for Queen Consolidated after what the Queen family did to this city?"_

"_Excuse me? Queen Consolidated has donated millions to rebuild the Glades. And Oliver Queen didn't level the Glades, Malcolm Merlyn did that. Mr. Queen is a good man."_

"_Isn't it true that you're sleeping with Oliver Queen? Doesn't that bias your view?"_

She'd laughed. Oliver winced, again, remembering her eyes meeting his as she laughed. _"Do I look like the type of girl Oliver Queen sleeps with?"_

Several of the reporters had laughed, causing Oliver's muscles to knot.

"_How did you injure your hand, Ms. Smoak?"_

"_I tried to learn a self-defense move and hit the punching bag incorrectly."_

"_Why do you need self-defense?"_

Oliver remembered smirking. The reporter had opened himself up for the brunt of Felicity's withering scorn.

"_That should be pretty obvious. Every woman in this city needs to learn basic self-defense."_

"You should save some of that for Blondie and Limpy." Diggle's words interrupted Oliver's reverie.

Oliver grabbed a towel. He swiped at the sweat on his face and shoulders. "We have to find them, first."

"We will. Thea's back at the mansion."

"Roy too?"

"Hey, she's got one big brother, she doesn't need me filling the role of another."

Oliver's eyes narrowed. "That's not an answer, Digg."

Diggle tossed his suit jacket over his shoulder as he walked away. He leaned against Felicity's work station. "You should give it up for the night."

She looked up at him. Her exhaustion and frustration were clear.

"Well at least set up one of those ping programs and let the searches run while you sleep."

She still didn't move.

He leaned closer. "Oliver won't leave as long as you are here. He barely slept last night. Do you really want him going after these guys when he's tired?"

"I know what you're doing."

Digg shrugged. "You're the genius, I'm just the hired help."

"Whatever. Fine. I could probably sleep here. Unless he's going to keep beating things with sticks. I don't want to listen to that all night."

"So when you dream about him, it's quiet?" He asked in a teasing tone while he helped her to her feet.

"I don't… shh! You're worse than Thea."

"No, I'm really not. Trust me, she's already planning your wedding." He caught sight of Felicity's mortified expression. "Relax. I'm just teasing." He held out her coat. "I brought this from upstairs."

Oliver walked in. He had his white oxford shirt on again, suit jacket draped over one arm. "Felicity, are you ready to go?"

"Yes."

"Goodnight you two." Diggle sauntered up the stairs, whistling "Get me to the Church on Time".

Felicity groaned.

Oliver tilted his head. "I don't think I've heard him whistle before."

"You won't hear it again, because I'm going to kill him, tomorrow."

"O…k…"

"I mean it. I'd do it right now, but I'm too tired. Maybe you can do it for me?"

Oliver laughed. "Maybe. I want to get you in bed first."

Her head snapped up. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"I really just said that."

"You did. Wow, twice in one day. Maybe my foot in mouth disease is contagious."

Oliver groaned.


End file.
